


A Rose for My Beloved

by SkyLeaf



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst, Childhood Friends, F/F, Family, Flowers, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hanahaki Disease, Hiding Medical Issues, Hospitals, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23017261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyLeaf/pseuds/SkyLeaf
Summary: For Cremia, there was little in the world that could rival the importance of ensuring the wellbeing of her younger sister, nothing that would be able to interrupt the perfect repetition allowing her to already know what the day would bring as she would find herself momentarily taken aback by the sight of Anju greeting her with a brilliant smile.The rose, lying in the palm of her bloodstained hand, brought with it the same kind of desperate realisation that a man who had just been tossed into the ocean would surely have felt as the waves rolled in over him.
Relationships: Anju/Cremia, Cremia & Kafei, Cremia & Romani
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although I don't really write a lot for this pairing, I really want to read more about it, a feeling that led to the realisation that, hey, I could write something for it, and, thus, I began to write this.
> 
> Now, for a little warning: I know that the effects of the Hanahaki Disease might not be everyone's cup of tea, and I just want to warn anyone reading this that there will be some blood involved in the depiction of it, though it will most likely not be all that bad - I also don't like writing descriptions of blood and injuries very much.
> 
> Anyway, here is the story :)

Clutching her cup of coffee a bit closer to herself, Cremia mentally thanked whoever had gone to the headmistress to talk about getting a coffee machine installed. Truly, they were doing the work of the goddesses. Although she was not quite sure exactly who had been the one to make the suggestion, Cremia already knew that she would not have hesitated to hug them and shower them with praise for the amazing idea, especially as the wind cut through her jacket like knives, making it feel like she might as well have been wearing a light summer dress rather than the combination of a sweater and her largest jacket. As she took another sip of her coffee, letting the warm drink do a little to keep the cold at bay, Cremia could not have imagined how she would have got through that particular week of being one of the teachers on playground duty if it had not been for the option of bringing a mug of coffee with her.

Not for the first time, Cremia found herself wishing that she could have been a bit more like Romani, having her ability to seemingly never be bothered by the temperature outside, always ready to run outside no matter the how thick the layer of snow on the ground was. Looking out over the schoolyard, Cremia found herself wondering if maybe the talent of lying down in the snow without giving the cold a second thought was just something that children seemed to possess and then lose as they got older. At the very least, the amount of children running around in front of her, a few of them throwing fistfuls of snow at each other, but most of them seemingly content to just throw snow at themselves, would seem to support that theory.

“Cold?” Kafei joined her, the sight of the steam rising from his mug telling her the reason why he had just gone inside for a few minutes.

She nodded, the movement making her shiver slightly as the wind found another way to attack her. “Yes, quite cold, actually.” almost like it wanted to prove that she was telling the truth, the coughing fit that had followed her around almost incessantly during the last couple of month returned, making Cremia have to cover her mouth with her sleeve as she felt like she was trying to cough up a lung. When she was finally able to breathe, blinking the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes away, Cremia tried her best to continue on with the conversation, ignoring the worried glance Kafei sent her way. “And is it just me, or is the coffee not nearly as warm as it used to be?” she gestured at the cup in her hands and how the liquid had already reached a temperature that was more lukewarm than anything else. Really, Cremia already had a good idea of what the answer to that particular question would be, how it was most likely simply a matter of how she had let it become cold by bringing it outside, but that did not keep her from turning around to look at Anju, who, as she stood there next to her, trying her best to pull a couple of snowflakes out of her hair, did not appear to worry too much about the cup of coffee she had placed on the table next to them. “What about you, Anju? You must have noticed what I am talking about.”

Anju merely sent her a smile as she shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” picking up her own mug of coffee, she looked towards the children around them before drinking the last bit of coffee. “Or else you have just let it wait for too long.”

Before Cremia got a chance to answer, the sound of screams redirected their attention towards their job, the three of them looking up just in time to see Ciela sprint past them, halfway turning around to laugh at the children chasing after her while holding up her carton of chocolate milk in a victorious gesture.

Cremia winched internally as she saw how Ciela, in her attempt to win what appeared to be some kind of foot race, missed the clump of ice in front of her, with the result being that she ran directly over it. Maybe it would have been fine if she had just been a bit luckier, but for now, it would seem that luck was not exactly the most common thing in the schoolyard, as Ciela’s foot got stuck underneath the ice sending her crashing to the ground and making her loose her grip on the carton in the process.

The drink went flying, and although Cremia was able to judge the distance and knew from how many times she had been in the exact same situation with Romani that it would be a good idea for her to move aside, she simply stood there, watching as the carton of chocolate milk hit her, staining the small part of her dress that the jacket was not quite long enough to cover before hitting the ground.

Next to her, Cremia heard Kafei let out a soft ‘oh no’ as Ciela hit the ground as well, and the next moment, he had pushed his cup of coffee over to her, already running over to make sure she was all right, Cremia and Anju following right behind.

“Are you okay?” Kafei asked as he crouched down, extending a hand to help her get up again.

For a moment, Ciela simply blinked, and Cremia could recognise the blank stare of someone who was trying their best to take in too many impressions all at once from how Romani had looked while clutching her hand at the funeral. Still, as Ciela accepted the help and slowly got back up, Cremia was fairly certain that while the fall was no doubt quite the scare, the snowsuit and the snow on the ground itself would have made sure to cushion her fall.

“I—I think so,” Ciela mumbled, her voice shaky as she tried her best to determine the answer to the question, “but my chocolate milk—” Cremia could see the exact moment where Ciela looked past Kafei and over at her from the way her eyes went wide and shiny, her lower lip trembling slightly when she spotted the stain.

Thankfully, Kafei cut in before the situation would have got worse than it already was. “Yeah, that was quite the surprise wasn’t it?” he nodded in the direction of the piece of ice. “It’s a good thing that you did not get hurt during the fall, don’t you think?” as Ciela nodded, still not looking away from Cremia, Kafei continued. “If you go back to your friends and the game you were playing, then I will make sure to get rid of that chunk of ice so that it will not be able to make anyone fall again, okay?”

Ciela’s eyes flickered over to Cremia, still fixed on the stain on her dress, but at least she was no longer looking like she was about to cry, instead nodding for a moment before running back over to her friends. Only a few seconds later, Cremia could hear how they were agreeing that the results from the race did not count and that Ciela should now get a head start as a form of consolation.

“Are you okay as well?” Kafei asked, bringing her attention back to the situation in front of her as he began to dig up the chunk of ice.

“Yeah,” Cremia said with a small shrug, “it was nothing, really. But if you could take back your cup then that would be great. I don’t really feel like holding it for the rest of the break.”

From her spot next to her, Anju reached out to put an arm around her shoulders, and Cremia had to do her best to look unfazed as Kafei responded to her answer with a small smile before grabbing both the piece of ice and the cup of coffee Cremia handed to him before pushing himself off the ground once more.

“Good.” as they made their way back over to where the carton of chocolate milk was still lying in the snow, the remnants of the drink that was leaking out of where the carton had fallen apart as it had hit the ground staining the snow, Kafei nodded at her. “I am sorry about not asking earlier, but,” he gave a toss of the head in the direction of where Ciela had now resumed the race with the other children, the sound of her laughing as she seemingly won the competition audible even over the general level of noise in the schoolyard, “it did not feel like it would have been a good idea to ask about it.”

That, Cremia could only agree with. Pulling the jacket a bit closer around her, she nodded. “Oh, definitely. But I am going to have to ask you to do my job for a moment seeing as I really don’t want to have to explain to twenty fifth graders why I have chocolate milk on my dress.”

“Understandable,” Kafei laughed, “I would not want to have to explain that either.”

Before Cremia got the chance to turn around to head inside, Anju handed her now empty mug over to Kafei as well and turned to face her. “I am coming with you,” she stated, taking a quick step forward to stand next to her.

“Are you really that eager to get a chance to be inside? I would not have thought that of you!” Kafei commented, though the twinkle in his eyes was quick to tell them that it was fine. He did also only manage to keep a straight face for a couple of seconds before he had to give in to the smile. “No, it’s fine. I am perfectly capable of looking after a bunch of children who do not seem to be able to feel cold for a couple of minutes; you two can just go.”

“If we get back to find anyone injured, we are never going to stop teasing you about that,” Anju promised before turning around and taking Cremia’s hand. “Come on,” she said, sending her a small smile, “I have something you can change into.”

Cremia could practically fell how her cheeks turned warmer, and, sending a quick thankyou to the goddesses for having given her the perfect explanation of it simply being due to the cold weather, she did her best to ignore the way she could feel how the butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach. She should probably have said something, reminded Anju of how she already had a change of clothes in her locker for situations like these, but as Anju began to pull her over towards the entrance of the school, she could not find the words to tell her that, really, she was perfectly able to handle this on her own. Right then, Cremia was just grateful that the older students preferred staying inside during the breaks to running around outside and getting snow thrown at them, for Cremia knew that she was acting more like some of the lovesick students that seemed to need to send little notes to their special someone during classes the same way they needed to breathe than the rational adult she hoped to look like. And if there was one thing worse than being unable to look at her best friend without feeling a slight twinge of sadness at the realisation that she had to stay quiet about her feelings for her, it would be to know that the students were aware of it. For while Anju might not appear to have any idea of Cremia’s feelings for her, Cremia had overheard enough gossip during the six months she had worked at Clock Town School to known that it was almost impossible to keep things hidden from the students.

All in all, when she finally spotted the door to the staff room, the two of them having made their way through the hallways without meeting a single student, Cremia had to fight the sigh of relief that was making its way into the air between herself and Anju.

“Just wait a second,” Anju told her as she held open the door, gesturing for Cremia to sit down on one of the chairs that were placed around the tables in the room. Moments later, she had disappeared around the corner, but the sound of her digging through the contents of her locker was still loud enough for Cremia to know that she had not left the room, so she leant back in the chair and tried to simply enjoy the feeling of being inside in a nice, warm room rather than standing outside in the snow with only a cup of coffee to serve as a source of heat.

Towards the back of the room, Cremia spotted Linebeck sitting on the couch, having put his feet up onto the table in front of him and with a book in front of his face. Seeing as he seemingly decided that there was no need to comment on the fact that they were still supposed to be outside, ready to help the children if they needed them, Cremia decided not to remind him of how they had agreed not to use the tables as a footstool during the latest staff meeting. It was simply the easiest way to act around Linebeck.

“Ta-da!” the sound of Anju presenting her with the tiny stack of clothes tore her gaze away from where Linebeck shifted in the couch, leaning even further back, in an instant.

Twisting around in the chair, not quite managing to not press a hand to her chest, Cremia saw how Anju had somehow managed to not only find a spare change of clothes, but also to move back to stand behind her without Cremia noticing it.

Her reaction had not gone by unnoticed; she could see that from the way Anju sent her an apologetic look as she handed her the clothes, mouthing a low ‘I’m sorry’ at her.

Still, as Cremia got up to go to the toilet to change, she could not ignore the way her stomach felt like someone had just released a thousand butterflies when her hand brushed past Anju’s in the process of accepting the clothes, a thing that was most definitely not a good sign, neither for Cremia herself, their friendship, or Cremia’s chances of keeping everything hidden from the students.

+++

Sometimes, Cremia could not help but wonder if the teachers were not actually more prone to gossiping than the students they were supposed to teach. Although she had often overheard snippets of conversations about who was dating who, which students were no longer talking to one another due to some kind of conflict that would undoubtedly result in someone yelling and throwing their book hallway through the room during one of her classes, and had got much more information about who would not be invited to parties than what Cremia would have liked to know, it would never be able to trump the conversations that took place during their lunch break. At least Cremia would have liked to see a student who was able to sit down with the same look of being about to let her in on a secret that Kafei sent her as he pulled out the empty chair next to her, glancing at their surroundings before he sat down an leant over towards her.

“Have you told her?” he asked, barely keeping his voice down enough to ensure that the rest of the room would not be able to hear him.

Cremia lifted an eyebrow in response. Already, she knew that she had a guess about just whom he was referring to, but if she was wrong, there was no need to give herself away by mentioning her name, and so, Cremia decided to pretend not to know as she placed her sandwich down on the plate in front of her before asking for clarification. “Who is ‘her’?”

“Anju.” Kafei rolled his eyes, somehow making the gesture seem even more dramatic than the few times Cremia had seen it used by her younger sister.

So much for their supposed maturity, Cremia thought, catching the last half of what seemed to be a discussion about the latest staff meeting.

When she did not immediately answer, Kafei seemingly took it upon himself to make it clear exactly what he was referring to, as he continued. “Come on, Cremia, I know that you might think that you are good at hiding it, but I can see the way you look at her. Just tell her, what do you have to lose?”

That was at least a question Cremia had already pondered, so she was able to give an answer without hesitation. “Our friendship,” she shot back, “that is what I have to lose if I say something and it turns out that she does not feel the same way about me.”

It had seemed like such an obvious thing to worry about that Cremia had almost expected Kafei to accept the explanation and go back to his own lunch. But of course she was not that lucky, and rather than merely nodding, Kafei tilted his head to the side. “Why would it ruin your friendship?”

“Because it would become awkward. Anju would have to deal with having to tell me that she does not feel the same about me, and I would have to try my best to act like I had never mentioned it in the first place. It is just going to be a mess, and you know that I already have enough messes to deal with at home.”

“Yeah, I know about Romani and her love for throwing things through the room. However, you also seem to forget that Anju and I dated each other for a couple of years, and I don’t think it has made it awkward between us.” Kafei raised an eyebrow almost like he was wordlessly daring her to disagree and give him an excuse to continue.

Buying herself a moment to think by taking a bite of her sandwich, Cremia glanced over at him, halfway expecting Kafei to be smiling at her. But he was not. Instead, Kafei was looking at her with an expression on his face that did not at all look like he was joking, his eyes not twinkling like they used to when he was moments away from reaching the punchline, and his eyebrows pulled into a slight frown.

As the time the sandwich was able to provide to her with came to an end, Cremia decided that it would appear that the only thing that would make him agree with her on her decision of not telling Anju anything about how a single smile from her was enough to turn even the worst days into an amazing week and how Cremia could always count on Anju’s presence to make even the task of grading assignments seem like it would only take a couple of hours would be the truth.

So, making sure not to look like she was about to share her reasons for wanting to keep the relationship between herself and Anju the way it had always been rather than being open about the fact that if Anju ever was to suggest anything else, Cremia would not hesitated to say yes, she shook her head. “That might be true, but I don’t want to risk anything. Besides, it is different; we are older now. If I tell her and it turns out that she does not feel the same way about me, I can already imagine the awkwardness between us—and no,” seeing how Kafei was about to interrupt her, Cremia held up her hand, letting her voice grow a bit stronger as she hurried to add, “I know that you were able to do it and still remain friends, but I don’t want to risk it.”

Maybe Kafei heard the slight hint of desperation in her voice, or perhaps Cremia was not giving herself enough credit for her ability to convince him. No matter the reason, fact was that, after pausing for a second to send her a long glance, Kafei did actually nod at her. “So you are not going to tell her?”

“No,” Cremia confirmed, “I am not.”

And maybe it was because he pitied her and her hopeless crush, but as Anju came over to join them, grabbing a chair to sit down next to them, Kafei kept himself from making poorly hidden comments about the fact that Cremia could practically feel how she gravitated towards Anju throughout the conversation, making up a lie about what they had been talking about the moment before Anju had returned to the table to save Cremia from having to face the realisation that she would never have been able to lie to her when she looked down at her with that smile. But, right then, Cremia did not care for his reasons to spare her from the embarrassment of knowing just how much like her students she was acting at the mere thought of simply admitting the truth to Anju. All that mattered was the fact that she was able to continue on with her life like she had always done for at least a little while longer.

As the conversation continued around her, Anju retelling how she had tried her best to explain the different political parties and the different ideologies to her students, Cremia had to stifle a cough, or rather, she attempted to. No matter how hard she fought not to interrupt Anju, Cremia could not hide the coughing fit completely as it almost bubbled up from deep within her lungs, reaching the surface in a muttered apology and attempts at hiding it behind the sleeve of her sweater.

She felt how their worried glances fell on her as she tried to brush off the minute she had just spent coughing like she would not be able to breathe if she were to stop for even a moment with a smile. Even then, Cremia knew that she was trying to fool herself into thinking that everything was fine as much as she was trying to convince them of the same.

+++

As she stood there in front of the students, trying to make them care about the difference between series connection and parallel connection, the discovery that she had forgot her book or that she at the very least could not find it anywhere in her rucksack was not exactly what Cremia had hoped would happen when she had left her flat that morning.

Feeling how twenty pairs of eyes were on her, following her movements as she dug through the contents of her bag, hoping that if she just kept looking, then the book would magically appear in front of her, Cremia was acutely aware of just why she had tried to form the habit of going through her things at least once before going to her next class just to make sure that she would not find herself in this situation. But it would seem that she had forgot about her rule.

It was all because of Anju. If Anju had not entered the staff room only a couple of minutes before the first lesson was supposed to start with snowflakes in her hair, the white and red creating a stark contrast and the cold air outside having made her cheeks turn red, Cremia was sure that she would have remembered to make sure that she brought everything she would need along with her as she exited the room to make it to her first class of the day in time.

Admitting defeat, Cremia turned towards the students in front of her and tried not to notice the way the twenty-one sixth graders seemed to already have realised what was wrong.

“Uh, I think that I have failed to remember to bring my book with me,” she began, trying her best to sound calm, “so if you will just continue on with the questions in the book, then I will head over to the staff room to—”

The sound of the door squeaking on tis hinges interrupted her, making Cremia instinctively spin around, both grateful for the distraction and slightly annoyed at the person for not remembering to open the door slowly so that the sound would not be that loud. But as she saw who had just entered the room, both feelings gave way for the familiar sensation of the tips of her ears turning red.

Anju smiled slightly as she stepped over the doorstep. “I’m sorry to disturb you guys,” she said before turning to face Cremia, “but I think you forgot this.” she held up the book, and Cremia could have run over to hug her when she saw that it was exactly the one she had been looking for. Had it not been for the students watching her every move, she might even have done it, but seeing as she was already hearing bits and pieces of a couple of whispered conversations, she decided to simply smile at Anju, hoping that it would be enough to convey how glad she was that she had managed to save her just in time, sparing her from having to return to a classroom that would no doubt have managed to descend into chaos in the time it would have taken her to get back to the staff room, get her book and then return.

“Thank you,” Cremia said, and the words had barely left her mouth before she knew that the tone had been just a bit too warm, sounding a bit too much like Anju had done much more than merely bringing her her book. In a way, Cremia supposed that was also the case. After all, during those past few months she had worked at the school, all of her time had generally been spent either in the presence of her students, Romani, or Kafei and Anju. Cremia was not blind to the fact that she had Anju and Kafei to thank for her not having been too lonely during those years at the college of education. Still, hoping that it would keep the gossiping at a minimum, Cremia decided to add onto her thankyou. “I was actually just wondering where I had left it.”

“Well, I found it on your table.” Anju looked like she was about to say something more, but at the last moment, she glanced out at the students and closed her mouth, instead shaking her head ever so slightly and placing the book on Cremia’s desk before returning to the door. “But I should probably leave now. Goodbye. Try not to burn down the school, will you?”

Cremia wanted to say something, to ask her not to leave, but as she stood there, all too aware of how she was standing in front of the whiteboard with the pen in her hand and her book now lying on the table in front of her, the only thing she could do was to send her one last smile as she tried to ignore the way her throat felt like thorns were ripping it apart from the inside as another coughing fit made its way up from deep within her lungs.

“Sure, well, thank you for bringing me my book,” Cremia called out after Anju as she closed the door behind her. A cough interrupted the last word and only moments later, Cremia was finding herself forced to grip onto the edge of her table, her knuckles turning white as she did her best to not fall over.

The pain that accompanied the coughs were unlike anything she had ever experienced before, and given how she had seemed to have coughed almost non-stop for the past six months, Cremia felt like she was able to say that it was without a doubt not how it was supposed to feel to have a cold. The feeling of something moving up her throat, doing its best to make her have to sit down on the floor and cry at the painful sensation, almost seemed like it had been designed specifically to bring the highest level of agony along with it, as Cremia fought to push another breath down into her lungs, not to give up and give in to the pain.

“Cremia? Are you okay?” one of the students said, but right then, Cremia’s vision was so blurry that even as she looked towards the source of the sound, she was not able to determine the identity of the student who had seemingly felt the need to make sure she was feeling all right. The sounds bled together, a loud ringing noise taking their place. For all she knew, the student could have been both Yunobo and Ruto; Cremia doubted that she would have been able to tell the difference in their voices right then.

The pain in her throat only grew with every second that passed around her, and as she stood there, Cremia had to force herself not to laugh at the absurd situation she had found herself in. Here she was, in front of an entire class where each and every student had suddenly gone silent at the sight of their teacher fighting to stay conscious, and then Cremia was not even able to use the fact that the scattered conversations had finally stopped to teach them anything.

Finally, bringing along an overwhelming sense of relief, Cremia felt how something warm made its way from her throat and up into her mouth, and although she could tell from the slightly coppery taste that it was anything but a good sign, she could not help but mentally let out a sigh as she brought up a hand to cover her mouth, not trusting herself not to spit out the thing if she had been able to.

“Yes, I am okay,” she said, feeling how the lie was immediately proven false as she winched in pain, “I, uh, I just have to go and do… something. Just continue with the questions in your books until I get back; it won’t be long, I promise.” before anyone had a chance to ask her what was wrong, Cremia had hurried over to the door. As simple as the task of opening it was, right then, it felt like it would almost prove to be too much for her. It was only the knowledge that she would rather have to grade a thousand extra assignments than to faint while still inside the classroom that made her able to force it open and run out into the hallway.

By some stroke of luck, the area around the science and engineering classrooms was empty, allowing her to make her way to the nearest toilet without anyone interrupting her or asking why she was pressing a hand against her mouth like she was afraid of what would happen if she removed it. If she had to be honest with herself, Cremia was not even sure what she would have answered if anyone had asked her. How was she supposed to explain the feeling of something soft brushing against the roof of her mouth, sticky with a liquid that had a taste that was worryingly similar to that of blood? No, it was for the better that she was able to run to the toilets and lock the door so that she was alone when she finally allowed herself to let her arm fall to her side while she forced herself to find out what had just happened.

Supressing a pained groan, she opened her mouth and let the thing that had brought so much pain along with it as it had made its way from her throat and into her mouth that she had been forced to consider the possibility that she would end up passing out fall into her hand.

It was a flower.

Cremia looked down at the bloodstained petals of the white rose, both unable to believe her eyes and already feeling how her stomach sank to the floor. It was a flower. Goddesses.

As she stood there, in a toilet with a flower in her hand that she already knew what meant even if she was too scared to admit it to herself, Cremia had never felt more lost than she did in that moment. The knowledge that, unless she wanted to let everyone know just why she had been forced to run to the toilet, she would have to return to her students in just a couple of minutes almost felt like it would prove to be too much for her, and as she tried to take a step backwards, Cremia could see how the room tilted around her, throwing her to the side. Her shoulder collided painfully with the wall, but she did at least manage to stay on her feet as she stared down at the rose that still lay in her palm, completely unaffected by her sudden movement.

It was small, the flower itself consisting of little more than a couple of petals, and yet Cremia could see how the stem held a couple of thorns. As she watched, a couple of drops of blood—her blood—fell from the tip of the thorns, hitting the white tiles of the floor. It was a mess. It was all a mess.

Before, Cremia might have been able to push her feelings for Anju into a box and then hide it away in a dark room of her mind, locking the door behind her as she promised herself that it was better to not risk it, to just continue on with her life like she had not looked over at Anju and realised that she had made the discovery that the sight of Anju laughing at her was able to fill her with more warmth than anything else in the world, but now… she supposed that if she tried her best to hide the coughing fits and the reason for why they were always accompanied by a painful feeling of something scratching against her throat, she might be able to continue to keep it a secret, but now, the consequences of making that decision had grown. It was no longer a matter of not wanting to make things awkward between them. As Cremia looked down at the rose that might once have been beautiful had it not been for the sickening red hue of her blood staining the petals, she already knew just where this would all bring her if she continued to refuse to confess.

She was not sure where she found the strength to do anything but sit down and cry, but somehow she was able to close her fist around the flower, finding a sick sense of delight in the way the petals had to give way under her fingers, the thorns digging into the palm of her hand as she destroyed the proof of what had just happened before wrapping several metres of toilet paper around it all.

The ball landed in the trash can with a soft thud, and as Cremia turned around to wash her hands, making sure to use enough soap to remove any trace of blood, scrubbing until she could no longer smell the way the blood had coated her hand, she was almost able to convince herself that nothing had happened, that the reason she had been forced to run to the toilet had been a simple matter of being on her period and nothing else.

Yes, as she looked back up to waste a moment at glancing at herself in the mirror, trying her best to ignore the frightened look in her eyes and how her skin had gone pale, Cremia decided that that was it. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Everything was fine. It had to be.

+++

“Don’t you think it is time to go the hospital with that?” Kafei asked. “I know that you said that you get sick quite easily, but now you have had that cold for almost five months, and I am beginning to worry about you.”

Cremia felt how her blood turned to ice in her veins as she slowly looked up at Kafei. Just a second before, she had been in the process of coughing up a lung, trying to mask the sound by coughing into her sleeve, something that had evidently not been enough to let her pained, raspy breaths go by unnoticed. Still, she did her best to look calm as she let her arm fall back down to rest at her side, doing her best to make it appear that nothing was wrong even as her throat felt like it was burning, flames licking at the insides of her lungs.

“What are you talking about?” her voice was broken, but Cremia hoped that Kafei would simply assume that it was due to the coughing fit.

This time, it was Anju rather than Kafei who answered, the sound of the answer to her question coming from her left rather than her right almost being enough to make Cremia lose her composure. But even then, she managed to stay focused, plastering a relaxed expression onto her face at the last moment before the pain would have slipped through.

“We are talking about all these coughing fits,” Anju said, and already before she looked over at her, Cremia knew how Anju would be sitting, using her fork to point at her, a piece of lettuce dangling from the tip of the prongs, “they have got worse.”

Doing her best not to recall the way it had felt to look down at her hand to see the red petals of the rose that had once been white—it had not happened, she had gone to the toilet for something else entirely, Cremia tried to tell herself—she smirked at Anju and hoped that she would not have to leave the conversation to run to the toilet just yet. Now was not the time to have to lean against the wall as she tried her best not to cry. “Yeah, it’s fine. I think it is just a sign that I should talk with my landlord about whether or not the walls of the apartment are actually able to keep out the cold air in the winter.” Cremia tried her best to add a smile onto the end of the sentence, hoping that it would make it sound a bit less flat, a bit more like a joke, but already, she could tell that it was not working, simply from the way Anju drew her eyebrows together, a faint crease appearing between them.

“Are you sure you are feeling alright?” she asked, and, goddesses, why did she have to lean in like that, with an expression like the only thing that was important to her right then was Cremia’s answer? “Because if you don’t, I am sure that it would be better to go to the hospital now rather than to wait for this to get worse.”

As she looked at Anju and saw the way a strand of red hair moved out of her carefully brushed back hairstyle, Cremia doubted that there was any chance of it not getting worse. Already, in just the last hour she had been forced to spend in front of her class, trying her best to make up a reason for why she had left them to run to the toilet, she had noticed how the feeling of something taking up space in her lungs, keeping her from being able to breathe properly, had grown, going from being a slightly uncomfortable feeling she was able to convince herself was merely a sign of her having a cold to becoming so overwhelming that she found herself trying her best not to breathe simply to not being forced to have to confront the fact that there was something wrong.

Still, even now, even as Anju sat right there in front of her, she knew that it was impossible for her to be able to share her worries with her. Not when telling her about the symptoms and the name of the disease Cremia was starting to suspect was the reason for the flower that now lay in the trash can, toilet paper wrapped around it to keep anyone from being able to spot the blood, would automatically require her to also tell her just why she was suddenly so much more aware of just where Anju was and how she had to do her best not to let herself begin to imagine what it would be like to muster up the courage and simply tell her the truth so that the ball would be in her court rather than in Cremia’s.

“Yeah, I am fine.” the lie felt more painful than the thorns of the rose as Cremia faked a smile. “I just have a couple of things I have to figure out, that’s all.”

Without giving Anju and Kafei another chance to ask her about her health or to what was so urgent that it would not be able to wait, Cremia pushed back her chair and stood up, leaving the staff room without another word.

+++

It felt like she was doing something she was not allowed to as she tiptoed through the library. Rationally, Cremia knew that that was not the case. She was a teacher; she had plenty of reasons to be in the library during her lunchbreak; she could have gone there to get a chance to grade assignments in peace, to find a book or to simply be able to find some quiet for a while, and yet, she found herself being careful not to make a sound, hiding behind the bookcases each time she had to move from one row of shelves to another to make sure that she would not risk running into someone and the questions they might have for her.

With all of that, Cremia might have considered it a miracle that she was able to get to the corner that was dedicated to computers, but seeing as the reasons for just why she had to make sure that no one would see her were anything but pleasant, she would rather not use that word to describe her luck.

The chair creaked as she sat down, but by then, the adrenaline that was flowing through her veins at the thought that she might soon get an answer to her questions was more than enough to let her ignore the little pang of fear that used to fill her each time she was forced to use the school computers and know that there was a risk that the chair might break beneath her any second. Besides, even if she had acknowledged it, there was nothing she could have done about it. With what she was about to look up, Cremia would never have been able to use her own computer. It would have felt too real, too close to her, if she had allowed the words to be left there in her search history. This way, if she got the answer she feared, at least she would be able to leave the computer and pretend that she had never moved the mouse, dragging the cursor over to the internet icon and with shaky hands typed in the words before pressing the search button and letting the results fill the screen in front of her.

For that was what Cremia did, her heart beating furiously against her ribs through it all, making her feel like it should not have been possible for her to still be alive. Of course, if her suspicions about what was wrong with her was right, that might become true quite soon.

Forcing herself not to press the little ‘x’ to make it all disappear and let herself continue to be in a state of blissful ignorance, Cremia pressed the link leading her to the first search result. The screen went white for a couple of seconds as the internet threatened to leave her completely. In that moment, she was not sure if it would have been a good thing, a blessing in disguise, or perhaps what would finally plunge her into a state of total despair. Although it would be nice to be able to ignore the signs and the creeping suspicion of just what had reached into her lungs to take root, Cremia knew that she would not be able to rest until she would find out for certain if she was right. Besides, as a science and technology teacher, Cremia had already put two and two together, and while the results felt more like it was a five than a four, she knew that it was the only realistic explanation.

Finally, the screen in front of her changed to show the page she had been sent to. Doing her best not to think too much about what it would mean for her, Cremia began to read, making sure to use her body to hide the little icon in the top right-hand corner from anyone who might happen to appear from behind one of the bookcases to find her sitting in front of one of the school computers.

She had not even made it through one paragraph before she knew that she had been right.

The Hanahaki Disease. It sounded beautiful; Cremia could admit that much as she skimmed through the description of the illness, and in a way, she supposed that it made it even worse. Not only was she coughing up flowers, something that was supposed to be beautiful, the illness itself also sounded strangely alluring, even as the text explained how the disease would begin by growing a tiny flower in the victim’s lungs, a flower that would then slowly turn into a bush as the victim would begin to feel ill and suffer from coughing. Her stomach felt strangely heavy as she read how the coughing fits could last anywhere from a couple of months to several years before the person suffering from the Hanahaki Disease would then reach the last phases of the illness, during which they would slowly but surely begin to cough up bigger and bigger flowers as the flowers took root in their lungs before finally killing the person who had been unfortunate enough to let it come to that.

Goddesses, if that was what had made her have to run to the toilet… Cremia willed the picture to disappear, but even then, she could not completely erase the mental image of herself lying in the ground with a bloodstained flower in her hand. She couldn’t, she would not allow that to happen to her, not as long as Romani still depended on her.

Cremia tried to ignore the desperation that fuelled her as she searched through the page to find out what the cure for the infection was, pushing the suspicion that it might not exist in the form she wanted it to away. There had to be something, it could not simply be a matter of waiting for death to claim her.

She found her answer only a few seconds later. The person behind the page had been merciful enough to emphasise the paragraph that mentioned the cure for the disease, and as Cremia leant towards the computer, both fearing what she would find and knowing that she had to be able to do something to stay alive, her heart felt almost like it slowed down to match her uneven breathing. There had to be something. If nothing else, then for Romani’s sake, to save her from having to attend a funeral all on her own this time.

The answer she found was enough to make her feel faint. It could not be happening, not to her. Things like this were always something she had read about online; it was not something that happened to anyone she knew much less herself.

As the room spun around hr, Cremia fell back into her chair, for once not caring if she would be the one to break it. That could not be it. How could anyone ever ask her to make the choice between letting herself die and leave her younger sister behind and letting the doctors remove the infected plants, taking away all of her feelings along with it?

And of course, the website had mentioned a third option, how a few of the patients were lucky enough to find the strength to tell the person they had feelings for only for the person to admit that the love was not unreciprocated, leading to the flowers to wilt and disappear. Because of course that was a possibility, she could tell Anju and hope that, by some miracle, Anju would respond by telling her that she felt the same way about her, of course that was a cure that was present to her in that moment. As she had read it, Cremia had wanted to cry, to let the entire world know how wrong it was for an infection like the Hanahaki Disease to exist, turning what was already a painful feeling of knowing that if she told Anju, then she might have ended their friendship into a matter of life and death.

She could not stay there. It simply was not possible for her to stand back up and brush all of this aside, pretending that nothing had happened so that she could make it to the last three classes of the day and tell a bunch of fourth graders about how cows digestive systems were supposed to function, not when her thoughts were occupied by thoughts of what she would have to do, how it seemed that she now had no choice but to choose between staying alive for her sister and ensuring that she would not have to lose her to a curable disease and being able to, at the very least, understand her pain as she died rather than continue her life without ever being able to feel emotions again.

Cremia could only hope that Nayru would be able to understand how she was not able to return to her classes as she stood up, her movements strangely stiff and robotic as she closed the tab and made sure to clear the search history before writing a message to her to let her know that she was not feeling well and had to leave. It would be so like her luck to also be fired for this. The dark thought twisted through her mind, taking root, despite her attempts at assuring herself that the headmistress would understand. Her hand shook as she brought it up in front of her face, a gasp almost escaping her, nearly becoming a choked sob in the moments it took for Cremia to regain what little control she still had left.

Then, Cremia left, walking straight past Anju as she met her in the hallway without looking back, and towards the entrance hall.

The moment she opened the door and felt the breeze envelop her, Cremia started running and did not stop until she had reached her flat, opening the door with a shaky hand, the sweat dropping from her as she flopped down onto her bed and let sleep take her away from the decision she would now have to make.


	2. Chapter 2

Cremia would have loved to say that after a night of tossing in her bed, unable to relax for even a second, she returned to the school the next day with her head held high, walking through the hallways with carefully chosen steps to allow her to find Anju and explain to her just why she had been unable to return to her classes the previous day, why she had passed her in the hallway without as much as a hello. She would have loved to say that, but it would have been a lie. For the truth was that Cremia was a coward. She was able to stay strong for her sister, had been able to cheer her up during the funeral. She was able to walk into a room she already knew would descend into chaos the moment the twenty-two fourth graders would have to form groups of two without first trying everything she could to make someone else do it for her. But ask her to simply walk over to her best friend and admit that she was in love with her and had been in for ages, doing the one thing that might be able to save her from having to make the choice between her life and her feelings, and Cremia was left standing outside the door to the staff room with her hand hovering above the door handle as she found herself unable to do something as simple as pressing it down and entering the room.

It was pathetic, really. Cremia was quite aware of how silly she must have looked to anyone who was not able to overhear all of the thoughts that whirled around inside her head, standing there and staring at the closed door in front of her like she did not know how to open it, but she simply could not bring herself to care. If only she could be as indifferent about the possible consequences of admitting the truth to Anju, but as she considered the path that would take her walking into the room in front of her and blurting out the truth before she got the chance to change her mind again, saw the future that would come from such an action, Cremia already knew that even if she were to try, the words would no doubt shrivel up long before she had made her way over to Anju, leaving her standing in the middle of the room, trying to force out the words over and over again while the other teachers would look at her, their faces showing just what they thought about her, the new teacher who had already left her class alone to go to the toilet before leaving shortly after lunch. She would not be able to do it.

There was something almost comforting about the knowledge that, in the end, Cremia preferred the pain of coughing up flowers and thorns to admitting the truth to Anju, and the fact that she really was more scared of telling everything to Anju only for the redhead to look up at her with that soft look on her face as she tried to explain to her that she did not feel the same way about her than anything else. Perhaps it was the realisation that made her able to find the strength to press down the handle and push open the door.

If Cremia’s face showed any signs of how she could not have found more than a couple of hours of sleep that night, caught between the growing need to explain to Romani, to apologise for the choice she had made, and the instinct of just remaining in her bed until it would all be over, at least no one commented on it, allowing her to simply pass through the room, careful not to trip over anything. Even as her vision blurred, pain shooting through both her head and throat, Cremia was able to spot Anju in an instant, her red hair acting like a light in the night as she navigated through the room, a lost ship that had finally caught sight of a light tower.

She stopped a couple of tables away from where Anju and Kafei were sitting, suddenly finding herself unable to continue. The sensation of another flower making its way up her throat, a feeling that had become frighteningly familiar after she had spent most of the night trying to muffle her pained gasps as she coughed up another two roses, kept her from being able to do anything but freeze up in the middle of the room and throw her hand over her mouth.

“Uh, influenza?”

The sound of someone talking to her made Cremia snap out of the stupor that had otherwise been about to drag her away from reality. As she twirled around, narrowly managing to see how Anju and Kafei had turned around in their chairs, the laughter and smiles soon being replaced by worried expressions as they saw her standing there, the world began to tilt once more, almost like it wanted to force her to acknowledge their presence and the concern in their eyes. She could not blame them for that. If she looked even halfway as bad as she felt, Cremia could easily understand why they were looking at her like they were halfway considering running over to her to be able to catch her in case she passed out. Her gaze grew cloudy as the pirouette came to an end, leaving her to look directly at how Jolene was standing in front of her, her eyebrows pulled together in an expression that was not quite a frown.

“Yeah,” Cremia said, already hearing how her voice trembled slightly. This was the perfect excuse, if only she would be able to focus for long enough to confirm it and claim that all of this was merely due to a bout of influenza. Swallowing the feeling of the flower was sitting in her throat, Cremia forced herself to nod, “influenza. I don’t know where I got it, but I am not feeling that great right now.”

“You also aren’t looking that great,” Jolene agreed before blinking and, seemingly realising what she had just said, sending her an apologetic look as she added, “well, I mean you are looking like you are quite sick. Don’t you think it would be better for you to just go home now? I can write to Nayru to let her know what is wrong if you aren’t feeling like you would be able to do it.”

It was a nice gesture. If she had suggested the option of Cremia simply going home only a couple of months ago, Cremia knew that it would most likely have ended with her considering for a moment whether she would be able to stay for the rest of the day before coming to the conclusion that, no, her sore throat and the coughing fits were too much, and accepting Jolene’s offer of informing Nayru why she had had to leave. But as it was now, Cremia was too aware of the way Anju and Kafei were looking at her, having halfway gone to stand up, and how the screen had flickered in front of her eyes when she had read the paragraph about how the patient would begin to cough up flowers as they entered the last phase of the illness. Despite the pain, Cremia would rather spend what might very well be her last days in the company of her friends than lie at home in her bed and try to tell Romani that it was nothing to worry about.

So she sent Jolene a smile so fake that it felt like her cheeks should not have been able to support the lie, ripping in half to expose the truth in all its beauty and horrid imitation of love, and shook her head. “No, it’s not that bad. I just need to get to my classroom. Once I am sitting down, I am sure it will all get better.”

For a moment, Cremia was sure that Jolene would protest, insisting that, with how Cremia was swaying back and forth slightly, having to reach out to place her hand against the wall simply to be keep herself from falling over, she was really not fit to go and attempt to teach children about why they should be careful while doing anything that included electricity.

But then she returned the smile with one of her own, one that actually looked like it was genuine. “Well, in that case, I can’t say that I don’t admire your work ethics.”

Although she tried her best not to wonder what Jolene would have said if she opened up her mouth to let the rose fall to the floor, drops of blood and all, Cremia still had to fight the urge to reveal her secret right then and there, instead nodding at Jolene before turning on her heel and heading towards the nearest toilet.

With the sound of Anju and Kafei calling her name, telling her to wait, Cremia closed the door behind her, the distance finally granting her a bit of peace. Already, she could feel how the flowers were growing larger each time she coughed up another, but at least it had yet to reach a point where she would no longer be able to hide it by smiling and hoping that no one would ask her to answer any question that could not be answering by either nodding or shaking her head.

Still, as she stood in front of the sink a couple of minutes later, washing the traces of blood off her hands, Cremia could not help but wonder when her luck would let her down and the truth would be obvious to everyone around her. Already, she felt how the control was slipping out of her grasp; it was only a matter of time before it would leave her completely, forcing her to follow the course the disease had set for her.

+++

Somehow Cremia managed to make it through the week. It might have been one of the worst weeks of her life with how often she had been forced to try to hide the pain of coughing up yet another flower with a strategically placed cough, the sound sometimes being supplemented with her pretending to stub her toe against the leg of her chair to give her a reason for letting out a pained gasp, but she made it through. Even more miraculous, when the weekend finally arrived, she was still alive, something Cremia considered to be more than she could have hoped for when she had first looked at the screen and read about the possible outcomes of the Hanahaki Disease.

Of course, even though she might have preferred to be able to sit at home, for once not having to make sure that she did not give Anju and Kafei any reasons to worry about her, she still had go with Romani to her archery lessons. She still had to keep up the façade when around her, still had to be able to provide her sister with as much normalcy as she could possibly create in the life they had been given.

That was the reason why Cremia zipped up her jacket that Saturday morning, putting on a mask of being just another person willing to do everything for her younger sister although her entire body screamed for her to simply go back to sleep and let it rest. She was doing this for Romani, and as her sister ran around in the flat, barely pausing to let Cremia remind her that as long as it was still snowing outside, she would have to wear her snowsuit, she could almost make herself forget about the pain, the horrible sensation of a flower pushing its way up her throat being slightly drowned out as Romani turned around to throw her arms around her neck before pulling at her arm, dragging her towards the door.

Outside, the air was bitterly cold, but at the very least, the icy wind was able to somewhat soothe her throat. Just a few days ago, Cremia would have worried about the coldness making her feel worse, but she supposed that being made aware of how she did not merely have a cold did bring good things along with the fear of death and the knowledge that she would be able to make all of it go away by either telling Anju how he felt and hoping for the best or letting the doctors remove the infection. Odd, how the universe had a habit of first kicking her to the ground and then offering her the tiniest embrace to balance the pain.

But even through the layer of sadness that felt like it would succeed in its quest to suffocate her long before the flowers in her lungs would be able to do the same, Cremia still felt the familiar sense of warmth bloom in her chest, momentarily making the act of breathing a tiny bit less painful as she looked at how Romani ran around in front of her, pointing up at a few of the houses around them while proudly declaring that ‘someday, Romani is going to be even taller than that house!’

“Sure thing,” Cremia said, hiding a smile and a faint cough behind her sleeve, “but if you want to do that, I think you might also have to change to a bigger bow someday.”

She could see how that made Romani stop, her gaze flickering back and forth between the houses and herself, speaking of how she was trying to picture herself with a bow fit for someone that tall.

“Maybe Romani doesn’t want to be that tall then,” Romani declared after thinking about it for a couple of seconds, “her bow is the best in the whole wide world! But,” she added, skipping back to take Cremia’s hand and pull her along with her as she continued to run along the footway, “Romani is still going to be taller than you when she grows up.”

Cremia could only laugh as she followed along behind her sister. But of course, the laughter was soon interrupted by another coughing fit, the pain that accompanied it this time being so intense that not even the sight of Romani twirling around in front of her to see what had made her older sister stop was enough to keep Cremia on her feet. She collapsed, slumping down onto the pavement, unable to do anything but try to breathe, continue to breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, in and out in a painful rhythm, praying to the goddesses that she was not about to cough up another flower now when there was nowhere she would be able to hide it, not even to mention the fact that she could feel the way the people around her were staring at her. Why was this happening now? When she had spent the last ten minutes before leaving her flat in the bathroom, trying her best to muffle the sounds of her coughing up two more roses, Cremia had assumed that it meant that she would at least be able to get a couple of hours free from the pain of the flowers. But now, it would appear that she had been wrong, her mistake bringing her to this place, her knees resting against the cold stones beneath her as she tried to cling onto what little allowed her to remain conscious.

“Are you okay, Miss?”

Even through her pain, Cremia was still vaguely aware of how someone had stopped in front of her, bending down to look at her. Mustering up what little energy she had left, Cremia forced herself to focus on the person in front of her.

Her heart skipped a beat.

With her red hair and the tiny smile, clearly trying to gauge what she should do to help the person who had just collapsed in front of her, the lady in front of her looked so much like Anju that it sent an aching pain through her chest, this time one that had been caused by more than just the flower that was passing through her throat. But it was not Anju. Of course is wasn’t, and as Cremia blinked, forcing herself to focus, she could see how the woman did not even resemble Anju that much.

The realisation that she was still waiting for her answer dawned on her, and, trying her best not to let it show just how hard she was fighting to keep the flower in her throat, Cremia forced herself to nod. “Yeah, it’s fine. I am fine. I just—” she gestured towards nothing in particular, willing an explanation to appear, “I, uh, I just felt like I had to sit down for a couple of seconds.”

Cremia could see the way the worried glance in the woman’s eyes only grew stronger, but at least she did not ask for another explanation, merely extending her hand towards Cremia in a harmless gesture. “Here. Let me help you up.” Cremia did as she was told, and the next moment, the woman had pulled her to her feet, pausing to take a glance at her before digging around in her handbag for a moment. While Cremia’s heartbeat fought to regain its normal rhythm, it appeared that she had found what she was looking for, as she handed a bottle of water over to Cremia, nudging her with it when she did not respond. “It is for you. I know that it is cold, but you might still be slightly dehydrated if you felt like you had to sit down. That, or you need to eat, but I don’t really have anything here that you can eat. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Cremia said, the fog in her brain finally clearing up enough to let reach out and accept the bottle, “after all, I was the one who forgot to drink water today, so, really, that one is entirely on me. Thank you for your help.”

“You are welcome.” and with that, the woman continued in the opposite direction of where Cremia and Romani were heading.

It should not have felt that relieving to watch her leave—Cremia knew that it was not nice of her to think like that, not when the lady had just been kind enough to help her—but she could not help but whisper a short prayer, a thankyou, as her saviour left without demanding to know the truth.

“Cremia?” the sound of Romani’s worried voice made Cremia snap out of her thoughts. Turning around, she was met with the sight of Romani having frozen halfway through the motion of reaching out to take her hand, her face scared and her eyes shiny as she looked at her. “Are you ill?”

The flower in her throat felt like it should have killed her a long time ago as Cremia shook her head and lied. “No. Not at all. I just did not sleep that well last night, that’s all. Now, why don’t we hurry up so that we can get to your archery lesson in time?”

She could see how Romani hesitated, clearly split between knowing that her bow and arrows would be waiting for her to come and train some more and the urge to stay there and ask her again.

In the end, it would appear that the latter lost, as Romani nodded, the movement sending her red hair flying around her head as she jumped up into the air a couple of times, acting almost like the calves had used to when they had been let out into the field after a long winter. “Yes!” she said, and Cremia was happy to hear the usual carefree tone she knew her voice for returning once more. “Romani wants to go to the archery lesson now!”

With a laugh, Cremia thanked whoever had decided that children would be so easy to distract. “Then we will go now.”

And if Cremia had to smile through the pain, unable to do anything but nod as she quickly excused herself from the conversation with the mothers who had come to accompany their own children to their archery lessons to instead run to the nearest toilet where she was then finally able to spit out the flower, well, at least she could consider it a good thing that Romani would never have to know about it. There were simply things that Cremia, as the older sister and legal guardian, would have to shield her from, and the knowledge that she had had to wipe away the tears as well as the drained blood as she had looked down at the flower in her hand and saw the way it was no longer a tiny flower bud at the end of a stem but rather a fully grown rose, her own blood painting the white petals red, was certainly among those things that Romani should never have to know about.

+++

Cremia was isolating herself. She knew it was wrong, knew that it was the last thing she should do when she was already spending at least an hour in the bathroom each day, coughing up flower after flower, sometimes having to run out of the classroom to make it in time, barely able to keep it together until she was finally able to return home where she could cry in the privacy of her own room, but, nevertheless, that was what she did. Over only a week, she went from heading into the staff room, her steps perhaps being a bit tentative but with her always ending up sitting next to Anju and Kafei as she tried her best to pretend that everything was perfect and that the only reason she sometimes fell silent was that she was busy listening to their conversation and not that she was trying her hardest not to let the flower that was blooming in her lungs fall out of her mouth and onto the table, to what she was doing now, hiding in the library during her lunch break rather than going to the staff room and risking them asking what was going on with her.

In a way, she supposed that it was strangely fitting that she was now sitting in front of the very same computer she had first used to find out more about the disease, the packed lunch her sister had handed her that morning with a bright smile sitting to her left while Cremia leant in over the stack of papers, resting her elbow on the table as she let her gaze travel over the page, the pen following along and correcting the mistakes. It was not exactly that she enjoyed grading the assignments or preferred sitting in the empty library to being able to talk with her friends, but she simply was not able to imagine having to answer all of the questions that would no doubt meet her if she went back to Anju and Kafei now. So she didn’t, instead remaining seated in the chair that creaked loudly from beneath her as she fought her best to stay focused, to not let the words lose their meaning as the letters began to jump around on the page.

Jump around. Cremia blinked and tried her best to supress the headache that was forming behind her right temple, pain continuing on a path towards her eye, making it feel almost like something was pressing onto every nerve in that area. The website had not mentioned anything about headaches being a symptom of the Hanahaki Disease, and as much as Cremia did not like what it meant, she had to admit that with how she had barely been able to drink water or eat food for the last week, everything having felt like it would get stuck among the flowers in her throat, she really had no right to act surprised that she was not feeling that good now.

It all grew too heavy, and Cremia barely had time to shove the papers away before her head hit the table, a sharp pain shooting through the spot where her forehead connected with the wood beneath. A wet cough made its way out of her mouth, travelling all the way from her chest, and as she looked down to see that it had left a small pattern of red on the table, the hue of which that was just slightly too red to keep her from being able to fool herself into thinking that it was anything but her own blood that was now decorating the corner of one of the pieces of paper she had not managed to move in time, Cremia knew that she would not be able to pretend that nothing was wrong with her for much longer.

But that would not keep her from doing her best, and after pulling her sleeve over her hand so that she could use the inside of the fabric to wipe away the blood, Cremia resumed her work once more, fully intent on fighting back the urge to go to her friends and beg them for help.

+++

Who had decided that their flat must have walls that were thinner than the slice of cheese Cremia placed on the slice of rye bread she tried to force herself to eat each morning before admitting defeat and letting it end up in the trash can? That was truly a puzzle that seemed to have been created for the sole purpose of not having an answer, or at least Cremia could not understand why anyone would have wanted to build a block of flats without making sure that those who would live there would be able to protect their privacy.

As she stood there in the bathroom, coughing over and over again as the flower in her throat threatened to end her life, only for Romani’s worried voice to reach her through the paper-thin door, Romani soon beginning to knock on the door as well, the prayer for the goddesses to let her survive this soon became a curse directed towards whoever the architect behind it all had been.

“Cremia?” Romani called. “Cremia, I am scared! Are you okay?”

The sound of Romani speaking in the first person was enough to make Cremia stop, holding her hand up to her mouth as she tried her best to force back the cough, the blood, the flowers, everything, just long enough to allow her to turn towards the door and make her voice strong, sure, the way an older sister was supposed to act when her sister came to her to tell her that she was worried for her.

“Yes, I am fine,” Cremia said, and even as the thorns of the flower cut into the roof of her mouth, the wound not being deep enough to worry her, but the sensation of it still being enough to make her wince slightly before she was able to continue, that pain was nothing compared to that of realising that Romani was worried for her, “don’t worry about me.”

It was the wrong thing to say, Cremia knew that the moment the words had left her mouth and Romani’s knocking grew stronger, quicker, with her voice at the same time growing a bit more high-pitched, a sure sign that she was moments away from crying.

“You are sick! Let me in, Cremia, _let me in_!”

And although she knew that she was only making it all worse by allowing Romani to see her like this, with blood running down her chin, dripping onto her blouse, Cremia was not able to ignore the way Romani threw herself at the door one last time before beginning to sob, seemingly falling to the floor if the loud thud of something hitting the floor was any indication.

Making one last attempt at wiping the worst of the blood off her face with the back of her hand, Cremia crossed the room ad unlocked the door.

Immediately, she heard how Romani stopped crying, instead throwing open the door, barely giving Cremia enough time to step back to avoid being hit by the door as it flew open, hitting the wall with such an amount of force that Cremia could already tell that it had left an indent that the landlord would no doubt order her to pay for.

The next moment, Romani had thrown herself at her, pulling Cremia down towards the ground to let Romani pull her in for a hug, and Cremia soon found herself unable to focus on anything but embracing her little sister, whispering apology after apology to her.

“I am so sorry that you had to see this,” she whispered, “but, really, this is nothing, I just had a little accident. You see, I hit my face, making my nose bleed. This is nothing, I promise you—”

But Romani interrupted her, clenching her tiny fits as she began to hit her shoulders. “You are lying! Romani can tell; you are lying! You are about to die and leave her all alone just like mum and dad did!” as Romani stopped yelling, her voice breaking as he began to cry again, hiding her face in the folds of Cremia’s blouse as she leant against her shoulder, Cremia could have sworn that she felt her heart break.

“Romani,” she whispered, stroking her sister over the hair, “I promise you that I am going to be fine. This might look bad, but I promise you, it is a curable illness.”

That made Romani look up, and Cremia had to fight the urge to fall apart completely as she saw the tears that still lined her sister’s eyes, wide and frightened. “Really?” Romani whispered.

Cremia could recognise the way she let the words take form and sound, like the hope she was clinging to was something fragile that could be broken by the tiniest sound, a sound she knew from the way she herself had sounded when she had first had to tell Anju and Kafei about how she would not be able to move into the flat they had made plans to buy after finishing their education as she would now have to take care of her sister, and how she had tried to convince them that everything was fine even as she had to fight to keep back the tears, knowing that she had to stay strong for Romani’s sake.

“Yes, really,” Cremia said, and immediately felt like the worst person in the world as Romani responded by looking up at her, a glimmer of hope on her face as she took in her expression. But this was a matter of letting her sister believe that everything was fine, gaining a bit of comfort from the idea, and for that, Cremia would be able to lie a thousand times, so she did her best to send her a convincing smile, mentally willing Romani to accept the lie.

It worked, and only a moment later, Romani let out a tiny, relieved laugh, once more leaning against Cremia as she threw an arm around her neck. “Romani is happy to hear that,” she told her, her voice sounding incredibly small as she sat there with her, on the floor of their toilet with the walls around them that were so thin that Cremia would not have been surprised if the neighbours were able to hear the entirety of the conversation, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“And you are not going to,” Cremia told her, although she already knew that she would not be able to know whether or not she was able to keep that promise, “I am not going to leave you anytime soon.” pressing a kiss to the tip of Romani’s nose, Cremia sent her a smile. “I want to see whether or not you will be able to become taller than the block of flats, remember?”

And Romani giggled, letting Cremia hug her and promise her that it would all be okay for a couple of minutes more before she pushed herself off the floor again and announced that she would go back into the living room do her homework.

As Romani left, Cremia found herself feeling even more lost than she had done before, almost like the piece of driftwood she had been clinging to for dear life had just been taken from her, leaving her to tread water in a vast ocean. It should not have been possible, but somehow, the knowledge that she had just lied to her little sister after she had come to her with the fear that Cremia would keep the truth from her felt so much worse that the flower in her mouth she was no longer able to keep hidden in there.

As she pulled out the flower, taking a single glance at it and feeling how her stomach sank at the realisation that the flowers were indeed growing in size each day before she threw it away and flushed the toilet to give herself a reason for having gone to the toilet in the first place, Cremia had to fight to keep the guilt hidden away in a dark corner of her soul where it could stay without threatening to overwhelm her. She already had so much to think about with how she still had to decide whether or not she would or even should seek treatment for the disease and give up all of her feelings to be able to stay and fulfil her promise to Romani; she could not also have to spend every waking hour thinking about the way Romani had pressed her head to her shoulder while begging her not to leave.

But it was too late for any of that. Already, Cremia could tell that she would not be able to forget about it, and as she exited the room, sending Romani a smile as she sat down across from her to go over her homework with her, the pain in her chest was caused by more than just the flowers that bloomed there, Cremia could feel that deep within her soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we see the agony of being in love!
> 
> This chapter is slightly shorter than the first one, and I don't really know how long the chapters are going to be in the future, but I will do my best to post the next one soon.
> 
> Once again, if you want to, you are more than welcome to come yell at me on Tumblr where I am theseventhsage about how Cremia deserves to be able to relax for a moment :)


	3. Chapter 3

For some reason, it would appear that Anju was incapable of simply accepting the fact that Cremia had decided that distancing herself from those she considered her best friends was the best thing she could do for the pain that came with each flower, digging into her body like the thorns on the stems of the roses, but reaching far deeper than they would ever have been able to.

Or at least Cremia had to continually try to find new places to hide during the lunch breaks as Anju seemed to always manage to guess where she had gone, walking around the corner only five minutes after Cremia had sat down behind a bookcase, crawled into a tiny corner between a column and the wall next to it, or managed to climb into a cupboard, sitting with her legs pulled up to allow her to balance her sandwich on her knees while she tried to convince herself that if she just took small bites, then everything would be fine and she would be able to swallow the food without having it hit the flower on its way down her throat. Each and every time, Anju would glance at her, a look of surprise passing over her face, almost like she could not believe that Cremia could continue to find new places to hide before she would extend a hand towards her, waiting for Cremia to take it to let her pull her to her feet, the two of them then going back to the staff room where Anju and Kafei would no doubt try to ask her about her reasons for avoiding them.

At least that was what Cremia assumed would happen if she were to accept the invitation. Truth to be told, she could not know for sure, as she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the wall in front of her each time Anju had tried to make her stand up and walk with her back to the staff room, feeling a stubborn sense of childish glee wash over her when Anju in the end found herself with no choice but to head back to the staff room to collect her things before going to her next class.

Really, with how often Cremia had found herself sitting in the toilet with her dinner lately, she was beginning to feel more like a teenager in one of those films Romani liked to watch with her friends than the teacher she was supposed to be. It was probably lucky for her that she had yet to be found by a student, as she was absolutely certain that the news of one of their teachers having been found inside a broom cupboard, brushing the cobwebs out of her hair before she opened the door to make sure that there was no one in the hallway outside before hastily making her way to her next class, would spread through the school like a wildfire.

Really, Cremia supposed that with all of the times she had been through the dance with Anju already, she should not have been surprised to hear the door handle being pressed down, followed by the sound of the hinges squeaking loudly as the door was pushed open and the light flooded the room, and yet, that was exactly what she was. Surprised.

As she sat there, having pushed her back up against the wall to rest her packed lunch on her thighs, Cremia could have been fooled into thinking that Anju was the goddess in mortal form. She stood there in the doorway, the light coming from behind her creating the illusion of Anju herself being the source of light—and maybe she was, or at least Cremia felt like she should have been—and it would not have taken many moments for someone to actually manage to convince Cremia that Anju was indeed the goddess herself, albeit a goddess that was looking down at her with tears streaming down her cheeks as she let out a sigh so full of sadness and pity that, right then, Cremia was almost ready to do anything if it would keep Anju from ever making such a sound ever again.

“Cremia…” Anju said, and as Cremia listened to her best friend pronounce her name like it was something fragile, she could not help but wonder if it would perhaps not have been better if she had given in to the voice that whispered to her about how it would be easier, less painful, not to have to look at Anju and know that she could tell her about it all, how quick it would be, only a couple of words and then she would know, for it had left her vulnerable, completely unprepared for the way Anju was able to make her words sound sweeter than any other sound Cremia had ever heard.

But she was strong. She had coughed up entire roses, and it would take more than hearing Anju say her name to make Cremia break. Goddesses, not even hearing Romani cry and making her promise not to die had been enough to make her break, and Cremia would make sure that this would not be the moment where she would let someone hold her as she cried into their chest either, no matter how desperately she wanted to be able to share her secret with someone.

So she pushed herself away from the wall, barely managing to catch her lunch before it slid down to the floor, and tried her best to look like she had not just been sitting in a dark cupboard all by herself as she looked up at Anju. “Yes?” she asked and tried her best to make her voice sound sure, like she did not know exactly what Anju was thinking about as she watched the redhead cast a glance at the sorry sight of her surroundings.

Anju seemed to understand that if there was anything she wanted to ask her about, she would have to say the words, for she cleared her throat—how Cremia longed for the days where she had been able to hear the sound without immediately having her brain remind her of how it felt to cough up petals and flowers—before gesturing to the lone broom next to Cremia. “I was just wondering if you wanted to come and join me and Kafei in the staff room. It must be lonely in here with only the brooms to keep you company, you know?” she sent her a cautious smile, and of course she did not know the reasons for why Cremia had decided to exile herself to the cupboards and toilets of the school, but it still felt like she was doing it on purpose, like she knew exactly what effect it had on Cremia to see her smile and know that she could accept the offer, go with her and maybe even tell her the reason for why she had been in the broom cupboard in the first place.

And, in a way, that was exactly what Cremia wanted to do. She wanted to ignore the disease, wanted to be able to continue with her life while not constantly having to wonder whether or not the months or weeks the website had mentioned was the amount of time that the flowers would need before they would finally kill the patient meant that this, the horrible feeling in her chest, was a sign that she was about to die, her body’s way of screaming at her that she needed to tell Anju about it before it was too late. But she simply couldn’t.

Cremia could still faintly remember the whispered conversation between her mother and father that she had overhead one night as she had left her bed even after her mother had told her for the third time that evening that she had to go to sleep if she wanted to be fully rested the next day. Her aunt had suffered from it as well, and somewhere in the middle of the conversation Cremia had pressed her ear to the door to overhear, her mother had mentioned that, despite all of the pain the illness did bring, it was quite beautiful as well. Then, Cremia had wondered what exactly the Hanahaki Disease was. Now, she knew that her mother had been wrong. There was nothing beautiful about looking at Anju and knowing that she would have to tell her, that the only alternatives were getting the flowers surgically removed and losing every feeling along with them or letting herself die while knowing full well what it would mean for her sister and how Anju would no doubt blame herself once she was told what the cause of her death had been.

Maybe that was the worst part. How she knew that if she just told her, Anju would not hesitate to tell her that she was also in love with her, really, she was not lying, even though Cremia knew that it would be little more than Anju’s desperate attempt to keep her alive.

When she focused, Cremia could almost hear the way Anju’s voice would sound as she tried to convince her. That was what gave her the strength to nod her head at Anju. “That’s really kind of you, but I actually need some time for myself right now.” before Anju got the chance to get a word in, Cremia continued. “I just—there is a lot of noise involved in trying to teach twenty-two fifth graders how a heart works, so I just need some time for myself right now, okay?”

Already, Cremia could tell that Anju was not that easy to lie to. But for reasons she could not entirely comprehend, Anju must have decided that it would be easier not to ask any more questions, for she simply nodded in response.

“If course. Just remember that you are always welcome to join us if you want to.”

“Of course,” Cremia answered, idly wondering what Anju’s reaction would be if she blurted out the truth right then and there, letting the flower that was already threatening to make its way up through her throat out and giving it to Anju in some twisted version of a romantic gesture.

Anju hesitated before leaving; Cremia could see that much, but it still took her by surprise when Anju leant in, closing the couple of metres between them, and pulling her in for a tight embrace, Cremia almost hitting her head against the shelf above her as she instinctively melted into the hug.

“You know that if there is anything going on, you can always tell me and Kafei, right?” Anju whispered into Cremia’s hair. “No matter what it is, we will be there to help you. If it is something about Romani, I just bought a tiny target and a toy bow and arrow, so if you need some time alone to fix anything, we would be more than happy to let her stay with us for a couple of days.”

The mention of Romani brought back the feeling of how she had cried while burying her face in Cremia’s clothes, and for a moment, Cremia thought that that was what she could feel. But as she looked down, she saw that Anju had begun crying again, a couple of teardrops hitting Cremia’s shirt.

There was nothing Cremia could do other than to try her best to return the hug, burying the pain in her chest. “Of course,” she mumbled, “I know that. Of course I do.”

“So is it about Romani?” Anju’s voice was unsure, but from the way that she looked up at her, Cremia could tell that Anju already knew that that was not the case.

“No, it’s not about Romani,” Cremia confirmed, “I just… I have a lot to do, and, lately, I just think that it has all become a bit too much for me.” at least that was not a lie, and Cremia was able to look at Anju while ignoring the way she wanted to do nothing else but to tell her the truth. “I am sorry about making you two worried. If your offer of having lunch with me still stands, then I would love to go and see what kind of gross combination of foods Kafei has invented today.”

“You—you do?” the combination of relief and joy was apparent in Anju’s voice as she stumbled for a moment before regaining her balance of standing up straight again, ending the hug in the process. “I mean, of course you do—sorry, I just think I was a bit surprised, with all of these last couple of days and all, you know...” she let the sentence trail off, and Cremia was grateful for that. Right then, she really did not need for Anju to once more remind her of how quick she had been to decide that her own comfort would have to come before telling her friends about what was going on in her life.

“I understand completely,” Cremia said, following Anju out of the cupboard, “now, I think it has been so long that I might actually have forgot where the staff room is. Could you perhaps show me the way?”

Anju smiled at her poor attempt at joking, but Cremia could not tell if it was because she pitied her or if the joke had been genuinely funny to her.

“It is this way,” Anju said, before taking her head and leading Cremia down the corridor.

As she followed along alongside Anju, Cremia could not help but steal a couple of glances. Hopefully, if anything were to happen to her, Anju and Kafei would be able to understand why she had been unable to gather the courage that would have been necessary for her to sit down next to Anju and explain to her that, for some reason, the goddesses had looked at her and though that she deserved to have to live with the pain of knowing that she was sick and that she could make herself feel better in a matter of minutes simply by telling her and then knowing that her only chance now rested on the chance of whether or not Anju felt the same way about her. She already knew with a crushing sense of clarity that Romani would never understand, not that Cremia would ever have thought to ask that of her, but when she sat down in her usual chair at their usual table and listened to Kafei making a joke about how they had been thinking about making a bet about what her next hiding place would be, Cremia could not help but hope that maybe, with time, they would be able to understand why she had made the decision not to tell them.

+++

Life continued on that way for a little longer, Cremia now allowing Anju to sit next to her during all of their lunch breaks. In the beginning, it had felt a bit like Anju was under the impression that Cremia would get up to leave the second she started talking, but as the days passed, she did gradually being to sound a little less like she was under the impression that even a couple of seconds of silence would be what it would take for Cremia to decide that she would rather go back to eating her lunches in the toilet instead of continuing to sit with her. Still, slowly, it began to become better, a little less tense, and although Cremia had tried so hard to convince herself that she was fine and that she was only thinking about herself and what she could do to ensure that there would be someone around to take care of Romani if the worst thing should happen, watching the way Anju slowly let herself relax as the usual atmosphere returned to their table, complete with Kafei telling them about how some child had run up to him to demand that he gave her all of his money before throwing a water balloon at him when he had refused to do so, running away with a wide grin, did bring her more joy than anything else those days, even if her lungs did slowly begin to lose most of their capacity.

With how happy she had been for the last couple of days, Cremia really should have been able to predict that something would happen soon, something that would end the sense of bliss that had filled her for the last week. But she didn’t; somehow, Cremia had allowed herself to believe that everything was fine and that she would be able to keep the flowers hidden. And of course she wasn’t.

It was that truth that saw her standing in front of the sink, trying her best to silently cough up the latest flower, only to start as the door to the toilet was pushed open and someone entered the room.

Quickly trying her best to push the flower back down, Cremia stood still, too afraid of being spotted and someone finding out about her secret. But of course she would not be that lucky, and moments later, Kafei’s voice echoed through the room, sounding louder than anything she had ever heard before as Cremia stood in the tiny space between the toilet itself and the sink.

“Cremia? Are you in here?”

She could hear how he walked past her hiding place, taking a step away from her before his footfalls grew louder again, alerting her to the fact that he had, for some reason, decided to turn around.

“Cremia, I know you are in there,” Kafei continued, and Cremia was glad that the simple act of staying silent rather than opening up the door and telling him to leave now was requiring all of her energy, for if that had not been the case, she would surely have sat down on the floor to cry as he added, “Is there anything wrong? If there is, you can tell me. I promise that I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.” a short pause. “Even if Anju is the one you don’t want to be told about this.”

How had he known? How had he been able to guess the exact reason for why she had excused herself from the table and run to the toilet, throwing the serviette with the smiling face Romani had drawn to her onto the floor as she hurried to leave the room, unable to think of anything but how she need to be alone for when the flowers would make its way up her throat?

She unlocked the door. Cremia was not sure what exactly drove her to swallow her fear—not actually swallowing anything, of course not, not with how the flower was still scratching against the roof of her mouth—and move over to twist the lock, but, nevertheless, that was what she did, and moments later, she was greeted with the sight of Kafei standing just outside the door, taking one glance at her before shaking his head.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, and Cremia almost wanted to ask him why he was saying that, for the flower was still kept safely out of sight; he had no reason to worry yet. But even then, Kafei still reached out, almost taking her hand, but stopping at the last possible moment to instead let his hand run along the side of her arm, his voice growing even softer, “what has happened? Are you sick?”

With the way he was glancing at the toilet behind her, Cremia was almost entirely certain that when Kafei said ‘sick’, he was referring to something like influenza, the same way Jolene had done back when she had first found herself forced to flee the staff room to keep her colleagues from finding out about the illness. But she had already come this far, there was no reason for her to attempt to lie and say that, yes, the reason she had tried to keep her distance was because she did not want to infect them, not when they had already seen her show up for a film night with a fever so high that it had reduced her to a pale, shaky mess of sweat and whispered thoughts as she passed in and out of a conscious state every five minutes through the entire night.

So Cremia opened her mouth and let the flower fall out, catching it without a word to hold it up to Kafei.

“What is this?” Kafei motioned at the flower, his voice sounding even shriller than before.

“The Hanahaki Disease.”

“Hanahaki?” Kafei repeated, and although he said it in a way that might almost have been meant as a question, Cremia could hear how the realisation of just what was wrong with her dawned on him as he continued. “Not _that_ Hanahaki Disease, right? You can’t have that, isn’t it supposed to be incredibly rare? Only, what, about zero point one per cent of the population, right—that—that is how it is supposed to be, isn’t it? That can’t be what you are suffering from, no way, I won’t let it.” the way he was looking at her, an expression that was practically begging her to say that it had only been some kind of cruel joke settling into the place happiness and calm jokes should have inhabited in his eyes told Cremia that he already knew that it was true.

“Zero point zero one,” Cremia corrected, and it should not have felt like she was bragging about being the one in ten thousand who was at risk for developing the disease, but that was nonetheless what it sounded like she was doing, “and I was already genetically predisposed—I had an aunt who suffered from it as well—so, really, I suppose my risks were closer to one per cent.”

One per cent had felt like such a small number back when the Hanahaki Disease had only been something they had talked about in biology, half of the class already asleep by the time the teacher decided to tell them about the dangers of the infection. In hindsight, Cremia could recognise that she should have been able to realise that any information she could get about the illness was important to her, but until she had been forced to deal with the knowledge that the Hanahaki Disease was more than just something she would read about in various gossip magazines as journalists discussed which celebrities might be trying to cover up the fact that they were suffering from it, but she had been young and it had not properly registered that she should have memorised the signs of the early phases

But feeling sorry for herself would do nothing to change the past, and so, Cremia tried her best to fake a resigned shrug. “Really, I suppose that I should not be this surprised.”

Kafei was silent for the longest time. Leaning against the door, he sent the flower in her hand an icy glare, almost like he believed that if he only stared at it for a long enough time, he would be able to make the flowers that had already begun to take root in her lungs shrivel up and die. “What can you do about it? Because there is a cure, right?”

“Of course there is,” Cremia said, and it felt weird to hear how her own relief at the mention that this was not the end was echoed back to her by Kafei, especially now that she knew how she was only a couple of seconds away from destroying the tiny bit of hope, “but I doubt I will be able to do it.”

“What? Why not?”

“Removing the flowers will also remove any feelings I might ever have had for anyone. If they disappear, I won’t be able to feel anything again.” she looked down at the tiled floor, for once happy for all of the hours she had spent crying about the issue. If nothing else, it had prepared her for this exact moment so that she was now able to repeat everything she had read while searching the internet for a possible cure without having her voice break in the middle of a sentence. “I know that I should do it for Romani’s sake, but… I don’t want to look at her and not be able to remember all of the times she made sure to remind me to bring my lunch to work or how she smiles when she hits the targets at her archery lessons. Now even to mention how I don’t want to be forced to forget about the person I had feelings for in the first place. I just… I can’t do that.”

“Are there really no other alternatives?” Kafei slowly reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, not removing his gaze from the flower in her hand for even a moment. “There must be something. If the only thing you can do is to either die or completely remove any feelings, then I would have known about it already, wouldn’t I? It would be something everyone heard about all the time.”

He wasn’t wrong. Still, it took Cremia a couple of seconds to be able to nod and look up at him. “I suppose there is a third option, but I already can tell you that it is not going to be possible for me to count on that.”

“What is it?”

“If the person I have feelings for makes me believe that all of this,” she pointed towards her throat and then the flower and saw how Kafei was able to look at her for a fleeting moment, “is actually not unrequited, then the flowers are supposed to disappear, leaving me cured.”

“Well, who is it then?” Kafei must not have been listening that closely, for Cremia could hear the way the hope seeped into his voice, bringing along a sudden sense of warmth to his demeanour.

How could he not see that if it really was that simple, then Cremia would have gone to see Anju the moment she first read about the possible cure? Was he simply trying to fool himself into thinking that she had a chance even when it was blindingly obvious that that was not the case, or did her truly believe that she had just not thought about pursuing that cure herself?

As Kafei continued, Cremia came to the realisation that it must have been the latter, for the amount of honest hope in his voice was not something he could have faked, at least not with how poor his ability to act was.

With something almost akin to a laugh in his voice, Kafei took her hand, barely seeming to note the blood that still stained her skin. “Tell me; I will make sure that they will be able to convince you—I can pay them if I have to!”

She chuckled, the sound of it being much darker than she would ever have anticipated. “Wow, so you think that they will only be able to tell me that they do love me if they are being paid to say it? Gee, thanks a lot.”

“I am sorry—”

“No,” she brushed the apology aside, “I am just—” tired? Scared? In pain? Worrying about who would take care of Romani as things would become worse? “—trying to figure out what to do about this. And it would seem that using humour has become one of my favourite defence tactics to spare myself from having to think too much about it.”

“Oh.” Kafei hesitated for a second, but even then, Cremia still knew exactly what the next question would be before he had even opened his mouth to ask. “But can I get a name at least? Anything at all? Just a hint to let me know if it is someone I know?”

Cremia considered telling him, she really did. But the moment she could feel Anju’s name lying on the tip of her tongue, ready to escape into the cold room, she recalled the way Kafei had greeted her when Anju had brought her back to their table after the days of her self-imposed exile, how he had made a quip about Anju always being able to find her no matter where Cremia tried to hide, looking at Anju with a fond look in his eyes through it all. He would not be able to know that the flower in Cremia’s hand only existed because Cremia dreamt about walking over to tell Anju about her feelings, going to Kafei to get him to help her compose poems to Anju, poems she would then be able to slip into her rucksack between classes, signed with her name if she was particularly brave, and then not tell Anju about it the moment they returned to the staff room.

“No,” Cremia said, “no, I am sorry, but I can’t tell you their name.”

Perhaps it was the look on her face, the way Cremia gritted her teeth, determined to not let her feelings show, and how she drew her brows together, that kept Kafei from asking again. Cremia was not exactly sure, but fact was that Kafei took her refusal to share her secret with him better than she could ever have hoped for, simply nodding a couple of times, the movement lacking his usual energy.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath like he was going to say something more before changing his mind at the last moment, “all right then. Well, even if you don’t want me to know, will you at least let me help you take care of all of this?” he gave a toss of the head in the direction of the flower that still rested in the palm of her hand, the blood dripping from the thorns and following the lines of her hand as it was pulled towards the earth below them by gravity the same way she would soon be.

“Of course.”

They went through the motions of wrapping up the flower in layers upon layers of toilet paper in silence, Kafei letting the ball of bloodied petals and paper fly through the air and hit the bottom of the litter bin with a soft thud, in almost total silence, Kafei only clicking his tongue at her when he had to move over to the sink to wash his hands.

Cremia was grateful for the silence. Already, the knowledge that two of those who were closest to her were aware of the exact reasons for why she would often run to the bathroom, supressing a cough as the door slammed shut behind her, was almost enough to overwhelm her completely, but the silence did help a bit to make it all feel less intense. As she stood there with Kafei, she was almost able to pretend that this was all fine, that this was just like when they had been younger and she had called Anju and Kafei to have someone hold her hair back while she had been sick with a bout of influenza. Almost, but not quite, for the incessant pain in her throat made sure that she was never able to forget the real reason why she was standing out here, sharp and aggressive as it poked against every part of her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter is a bit shorter than the other two. When combined with the fact that Cremia is clearly not doing great, I think that it is only right for me to apologise right now (I am joking… mostly ;) )
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading this - it means a lot <3


	4. Chapter 4

Kafei kept his promise which was almost more than what Cremia had expected of him. In a way, she suspected that the tiny pang of something she could not quite identify was her body’s way of telling herself that, really, she had hoped for him to tell Anju, taking the burden of having to make the decision off Cremia’s shoulders, but she made sure to bury that feeling deep down along with everything else, close to the place where she could almost feel how the roots of the flowers were growing deeper, twisting around her insides.

However, even if Kafei technically made sure never to mention the words ‘Hanahaki Disease’, ‘in love with you’, or anything that might have given her secret away while around Anju, Cremia could see how he did his best to make her bring up the topic on her own. Whether it was by nudging her in the side every time Anju glanced away, getting up to let Cremia take the seat next to Anju each time they had to attend yet another staff meeting, or simply sending meaningful glances to Cremia each time Anju would turn around to look at something else, Cremia could almost feel how his attempts at making her admit her feelings to Anju came close to manifesting as a physical thing in the air between them with ever shaky heartbeat that marked the passage of time.

“We should have a film night!” Kafei declared only a little week after he had seen Cremia cough up a flower in the bathroom. When they both looked at him like they almost could not believe that he meant it seriously, Kafei nodded his head energetically. “No, really. Think about it, we used to do it all the time when we were younger, and what are we now but simply slightly bigger children?”

“Teachers,” Anju answered, though she did still send him a smile as she looked up from the stack of assignments she was in the process of going over, “so I would hope that we are adults, because if not, I doubt I would be able to make my class understand the difference between a representative democracy and a direct democracy.” she glanced down at the paper in front of her with a slight frown. “Not that I seem to be able to do that anyway, teacher or not.”

“Come on! It’ll be fun!” Kafei tried again, this time turning around to look at Cremia. “Cremia, you are agreeing with me, aren’t you?”

She must have said yes, because somehow, even as the pain in her throat made Cremia’s vision swim, barely allowing her to hear the rest of the conversation, by the time the muffled sound of someone speaking had become silent, they had agreed to meet in Anju and Kafei’s flat that Saturday to have the film night Kafei had spoken so fondly of.

That was what brought Cremia to stand in the tiny hallway of her flat that morning, trying to make sure that she had remembered everything as she looked into the bag. Romani’s pyjamas were there, the purple colour of the fabric easy to spot among the rumpled mess where Romani had unceremoniously dumped her hairbrush, toothbrush, and toothpaste in one big pile, already feeling the giddy emotion building up at the idea of having a moment to herself without having to think about the flowers every waking moment.

It was the same kind of excitement at the prospect of staying over at her friend’s house for the night that was currently making Romani run through the flat, holding her jacket open as she jumped around, flapping her wings like a bird in the second it took before she hit the ground, no doubt to the annoyance of the person living in the flat below, before continuing with her jumps and excited yelps.

“Woah,” Cremia laughed, hiding the way the pain in her chest made her wince ever so slightly, “calm down there. You don’t want to use up all of your energy before we get to Pamela’s house, do you?”

“No,” Romani said, instantly stopping to instead look up at her with a big smile before dashing over to grab the bag, “but Romani has more energy than you do, so come on! We have to leave now; Pamela will be waiting for us!”

With a low chuckle, Cremia followed along after Romani. Already after having gone down the first flight of stairs, she could tell that the illness was progressing faster than she had feared, reducing her to a mess as she reached the half landing, having to grab onto the windowsill just to avoid falling over. Pressing a hand to her chest like it would help lessen the pain, Cremia tried her best to force enough air into her lungs to allow her to continue. As a distant sound, she could hear how Romani had stopped, running back up the stairs to get to her, her worried voice sounding like it come from someplace far away as the world around her began to tilt.

In the end, Cremia did not know where she found the strength, but somehow, she was able to remind herself that she was doing this for Romani as well as Anju and Kafei and use what little energy she had left to push herself away from the window. She wobbled dangerously for a moment as she tried her best to regain her sense of balance, before she was able to ignore the pain in her throat and send Romani a little smile.

“Sorry, I don’t know what just happened there.” the lie tasted like blood in her mouth, but Cremia ignored it. Everything might be telling her that she should either return to her bed or go to the hospital, but she had a plan and she would make sure that she followed it. “But I am already feeling a lot better, so why don’t you just run ahead? Then I will meet you at the front door.”

It was obvious how Romani hesitated for a moment, her feet already taking her in the direction of the stairs while her hand reached out towards Cremia, halfway split between knowing that her friend was waiting for her and seeing Cremia like this. Reminding herself of how Romani had spent an entire evening excitedly telling her about everything Pamela had said to her the day before, Cremia faked a smile.

It seemed that that was what made the decision for Romani as she turned around to sprint down the stairs, skipping past two steps at a time.

Now that she knew that Romani would not notice her pain, Cremia was finally able to follow along, gripping the banisters so tightly that her knuckles turned white as she placed all of her weight onto the piece of wood. If she just made sure not to move too quickly, Cremia was almost able to ignore how she had already reached a point where simply leaving her flat was an enormous task, and with the help of the banisters, she did also make it to the front door where Romani once more began to run around her, waiting for Cremia to push the door open, while it did take several minutes rather than the thirty seconds it usually required of her.

But even then, they did somehow manage to make it to Pamela’s house, and though Cremia had been terrified of the risk of fainting while crossing the street, she had made it, standing back to let Romani run up to press the doorbell.

It was Pamela who answered, opening the door with a wide smile, ready to catch Cremia’s sister the moment Romani had thrown the bag to the floor to run inside and pull Pamela in for a hug.

“I have something I need to talk with you about,” Romani said, already leading Pamela further into the house. Before long, Cremia could only hear the faintest bits and pieces of their conversation while she struggled to make it up the two stairs to the door, picking up Romani’s bag to make sure it would not be left outside for the rest of the day.

“Can I help you with that?”

Cremia looked up to see that she had somehow failed to notice that Pamela’s father had appeared. As he stood there, right in front of her, extending his hand towards the bag, she might have questioned why she had not heard him, but with the way she could hear her blood running through her veins, sounding more like a scream than anything else, Cremia supposed that it should not have been all that shocking for her.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, trying to hide how even the relatively simple act of walking a couple of metres and lifting up a back had already made her winded behind a laugh, “yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

As Pamela’s father stepped outside to pick up the bag, Cremia did not miss the concerned glance he sent her way, and from the way his face settled into a frown, she knew that her tiny smile had not been enough to convince him that everything was fine.

Turning towards her, it became clear how she was not able to avoid the matter for any longer, Pamela’s father barely giving her a moment to collect her thoughts before he gestured towards her. “Are you okay?”

The question was short, almost like he had already decided that she most likely wasn’t. Cremia could not exactly blame him for arriving at that conclusion. Although she had tried her best to cover up the sickly pale hue of her skin before she had left her flat and tied her hair back in an attempt at keeping it from being obvious how the cold sweat was making her hair stick together in clumps, she knew that if she looked even halfway as bad as she felt, her appearance was most likely that of one who really should have stayed at home rather than gone to accompany their younger sister to her best friend’s house.

But if there was one thing other than how to use dots of strategically placed makeup to give off an impression of not being on the verge of death that Cremia had got every opportunity to perfect over the last month, it was how to lie, so she barely blinked when she let out a tiny laugh that might almost have succeeded in having a trace of joy to it. “Yes, yes. I know that I don’t look that good right now, but I just simply did not have time to do my makeup this morning.”

It had the intended effect. Of course it did.

“Oh—” Pamela’s father said, the embarrassment making his voice a bit more high-pitched than it had been before, “I am sorry, I didn’t know that you…” making a vague motion towards his face with his hand, he seemed to realise that he was only making it sound even worse, “not that I am trying to say that—well, never mind, now that I am actually looking at you, I… you know what, never mind. Just forget it.

From the way he looked straight past her face, his gaze darting between the trees in the garden and then back at the bag he was still holding, it was clear that he did not actually mean any of it. Cremia considered it a victory. After all, the blush she had tried to apply to her cheeks that morning, only to feel how her skin was dryer than it had ever been, a few flakes of dead skin cells coming away as she tried to touch it, had not exactly been to let people know that she knew how to apply makeup. It had been a way to look just a little less dead.

“Nothing to worry about,” Cremia said, and if the air between them was tense, filled with the awkward conversation that had just taken place, at least she knew that she had to hurry up and leave if she wanted to be able to make it to Anju and Kafei’s flat in time. Granted, with how her chest was tightening painfully, for a second making her unable to do much more than to simply beg herself not to let Pamela’s father and by extension Romani and Pamela as well, see how much pain she was in, Cremia had her doubts that she would be able to get to their place in time even if she left in that instant, but that would not stop her from using it as her cue to leave as she continued, “I know what you meant.” making a show out of pulling her phone out of her pocket to check the time, Cremia prepared to make her escape, starting off with a loud gasp. “I am so sorry, but I have completely forgot the time! You can take care of the bag, right?”

“Of course.” there was something to the way he said the words, like he did not truly believe her, and as he continued, Cremia found herself wishing that she could force herself to just care so little about things that she could have turned around and just left right then and there, for Pamela’s father slowly looked back at her as he added. “But are you sure… that you should go anywhere like this? Because I am sorry if this sounds harsh, but you look like you are about to faint. Do you want to come inside?” stepping aside, he pointed back over his shoulder. Cremia could see the living room, with a couch that looked like it would be softer than air, though not even that was enough to keep her from holding her breath as Pamela’s father added. “I am sure that Romani would be overjoyed if you stayed for a little longer.”

But Anju and Kafei were waiting for her, and if all of this, the exhaustion and the pain, really was a sign that her body was about to give up and let the disease reach the very last phase, Cremia could not afford not to seize every opportunity she got to spend time with them, especially with how she had already wasted a week, seven entire days, wallowing in self-pity while avoiding them out of some misguided belief that it would bring them less pain when the inevitable would happen to her if she had pushed them away in advance.

So Cremia sent him a small smile as she shook her head. “Thank you for the offer, but I think my friends would be wondering why I didn’t show up.”

And ever so slowly, Pamela’s father nodded, though he did still make one last attempt at convincing her of just how foolish her quest would be. “Okay, but… just be careful, will you? I hear a lot about you while Romani is here. She really does love you, you know that, right?”

He knew. Cremia felt colder than she had ever done before, like all of the blood in her veins had been replaced with ice. He knew. That was the only reason she could think of that would explain why he had not only commented on the fact that she looked a lot worse than what she usually did, but also tried to dissuade her from walking the couple of kilometres to Anju and Kafei’s flat and mention her sister to her so many times. He knew.

Pushing back her shoulders, Cremia made sure to hide every sign of emotions on her face. Although Pamela’s father might have figured out that something was wrong, she would still have to leave now if she wanted to make it in time. And just because he had thought to use the fact that Cremia already knew how her younger sister worried about her, he would still not be able to tell her what to do.

She made her tone cold as she took one last glance at him. “I am happy to hear that. Romani has also mentioned how happy she is to stay here a couple of times, so I am happy that this is not an inconvenience to you.” with that, she turned around, coming only a few centimetres away from falling down the steps, and left the house.

Behind her, Cremia could easily imagine how Pamela’s father stood there with the bag, perhaps wondering if he should call after her. That was what Cremia would have done if she was in his place. No, if she had been the one standing there, looking at someone she knew without a doubt had spent thirty minutes that morning standing in front of the mirror, trying their best not to cry as they coughed up a bloodied rose, Cremia knew that she would never have allowed them to leave. She would have fought her hardest to make them stay, possibly even calling an ambulance just to make sure that she would not have to open the newspaper the next day to read their name in an obituary.

But of course, Pamela’s father had no way of knowing just what was wrong with her, and although Cremia had been told by Romani multiple times that he was some sort of scientist, trying to find a cure for some illness, Romani always forgetting the name of it when she told the story to her, she doubted that he was able to recognise the symptoms of the Hanahaki Disease. Even though Cremia had been aware of how it was present in her family, she herself had still failed to see the first signs that there was something wrong, only noticing when the disease had practically forced her to admit that maybe the incessant coughing fits that had lasted for over half a year had been more than just a cold, so how would anyone who had not already experienced the illness know what to look for?

She made it down the street, almost falling over multiple times as she began to run. Why exactly she did it, Cremia did not know, and with how fragile the will to stay upright was, she should probably have slowed down a long time ago. But as she felt how the amount of pain in her chest gradually grew as the feeling of pushing her body to the limit replaced the sense of flowers growing in her lungs, she could not help but smile through the pain. Even if she was barely doing much more than jogging lightly and that still being enough to make her as tired as she would have been if she had just sprinted for hours on end, it still meant that there was a way for her to have at least a sense of control over the pain. She could decide when it would be allowed to bother her and when she would push through, making another kind of uncomfortable tightness in her chest replace that of the flowers.

By the time Cremia ran up to the front door of the block of flats where Anju and Kafei lived, she was almost completely drenched in sweat, though the lack of soreness in her muscles telling her that it had been caused by the flowers much more than the run itself. Pressing the button to let them know to let her into the building, Cremia could feel how freeing the run had been. But even though she might mentally have enjoyed gaining the knowledge that she was able to make herself suffer all on her own, doing a much better job at it than the Hanahaki Disease could ever hope to, her body did not at all agree with her, forcing her to slow down considerable as she made her way up the stairs to the fourth floor.

It was Anju who opened the door, bringing a sense of wonder along with her as she stood there, backlit as the sun came in through the window in the kitchen behind her.

“Cremia!” she exclaimed, and if Cremia had hoped to hear joy in her voice, a sign that she enjoyed seeing her, she was disappointed to note that the tone of Anju’s voice was shocked rather than excited, Anju taking a step backwards to let her inside. “Are you okay? Did you run all the way over here? Come on in, I think you should probably go sit down.” taking Cremia’s hand, Anju slowly led her inside.

Had it not been for the panic of knowing that there was a flower fighting to make its way out of her mouth, Cremia might have enjoyed how Anju did not even hesitate for a moment before placing her arm around her waist and pulling her closer towards her, letting her lean against her shoulder as they walked into the living room, Anju rubbing a little circle along the edge of her shoulder blade with her right hand.

Kafei was already in the living in room, sitting in front of the television. From what Cremia could see, small dots dancing in front of her eyes as the flower’s journey through her throat sent a lightning bolt of pain through her body, he was in the process of tidying up and setting up snacks for their film night. Of course he would be. Cremia did not know why she had expected anything else from him.

“Look, we are a bit late,” Anju said as she turned Cremia around and gave her a light shove towards the armchair next to the couch, Cremia letting herself fall backwards, for once fully able to relish the feeling of how her body all but disappeared among the softness of the chair. Although the fact that neither Anju nor Kafei were mentioning the fact that she had been given the best chair in the house was a strong indicator that Anju had looked at her and arrived at the same conclusion as Pamela’s father, Cremia was not able to complain about getting the chair, not even as Anju continued, that worried tone still present in her voice, “so if you just wait here for a moment, then we will take care of the rest.”

“Mhmm.” Cremia said.

She should probably get up and at least offer to help, but right then, she knew that she would not be able to stand up without immediately collapsing, and that if she were to try to claim that she wanted to help, the lie would almost be big enough to take physical form. Perhaps running over to the flat had not been the smartest decision. Actually, it most definitely had not been; Cremia could recognise that when the pain of the Hanahaki Disease returned as the feeling of having finally been able to use her body wore off, feeling like it had increased tenfold during the couple of minutes where the new pain had been able to drown it out.

“Sure, I will just stay right—” she began again before a cough, raspy and painful, made sure to remind her of just why she still had to get up, and although she would rather have got a thousand extra assignments to grade than having to stand up, Cremia knew that the last thing she wanted now was to accidentally cough up blood in front of Anju, so she tried her best to look like she was not in pain, not swallowing a mouthful of blood before opening her mouth to continue, “actually, I think I will go to the toilet for a second.”

Before Anju got a chance to object to that idea, Cremia had almost thrown herself out of the armchair and left the room, halfway walking and halfway using the walls to drag herself to the bathroom.

The moment the lock clicked behind her, promising her sweet, sweet privacy, Cremia spit out the flower, careful not to let the petals touch her clothes and smear blood out over the fabric.

The flowers were almost fully grown by now. Cremia was not sure exactly what it meant, but she doubted that it was a good sign that where the flowers had once been mere flower buds the size of Romani’s hand, the flower she was currently staring at was larger than her own hand. But it was not only a matter of the flowers being larger and the thorns sharper, causing even more pain as they scratched against the sides of her mouth and throat. No, the flower almost appeared to have changed colour. The roses she coughed up were no longer white, with only a few drops of blood staining the petals. Now, Cremia could only see the faintest hint of white close to the very middle of the flower. The rest of it was red, a dark red, a colour she suspected had been caused by the flower having been soaked in her blood.

Cremia swallowed, trying her best to supress the feeling of doom, but even as she did that, she could already feel how the next flower was waiting in her chest, only waiting for the moment where it too would join the mountains of flowers she already had to figure out how to get rid out without anyone noticing it. This was not going to end with her finding some miracle cure, Cremia knew that, but the fact that this might be it, that the growing flowers might be a message to her to begin to think about who would take care of Romani when she was gone, felt almost unreal as she stood there in the tiny bathroom of Anju and Kafei’s flat. It could not be this way, if not for her then for Romani. Someone had to do something. But, of course, there was nothing to do except for Cremia to try her best to hide all traces of the flower.

She returned to the living room with a face that was slightly damp. If they actually were suspecting that it had been caused by Cremia vigorously scrubbing her hands, trying to get every last bit of blood off before catching a glimpse of her own reflection staring back at her, the swollen eyes and sickly pale hue of her skin making her almost recognisable, and in a matter of seconds finding herself scrubbing her face as well in an attempt at getting rid of every piece of evidence that was not able to be flushed down the drain of the toilet, at least Anju and Kafei did not comment on it. Instead, Anju turned around to look at her the moment Cremia entered the room, brushing the dust off her dress as she stood up, and sent her that kind of special smile that only Anju had really mastered, the smile that never failed to make Cremia forget about her problems.

But today, even that smile was not enough, and Cremia flopped down into the armchair with a little sigh.

However, she only managed to stay quiet for a couple of seconds before the question felt like it would have torn her apart from inside if she did not ask it right that instant, forcing her to speak. “If anything were to happen to me,” she began, and she did not fail to notice how Kafei turned around to look at her so quickly that it was a wonder he did not injure himself, “you two will take care of Romani for me, right?”

Anju frowned, cocking her head slightly. “Why? I mean, of course we will, right, Kafei?” Kafei nodded before Anju had even glanced over at him. He did not take his eyes off Cremia for even a second, not even as Anju continued. “But why do you ask? Is anything wrong?”

It felt cowardly to lie to her like that, to first make them promise something that Anju surely did not believe would ever become relevant, but that was exactly what Cremia did as she shook her head. “No, not at all. I was just wondering about it. You know that—that I don’t really have that much family left, so… I just thought that it would be a good idea to make sure that I knew that someone would be ready to take care of Romani if I found myself in a situation where I would no longer be able to.” seeing the way Kafei looked at her, with an expression that told her how he was only a few seconds away from beginning to cry, something that would surely lead to him telling Anju the truth, promise or no promise, Cremia hurried to add. “It’s completely hypothetical, of course. I just thought that since I would not really be able to take care of this if something really were to happen to me, it would be best to talk about it now. You never know, right? For all I know I could be hit by a piano the next time I go outside and in that case, I would not be able to forgive myself if I had not at the very least tried to make sure that my sister would have someone she could count on.” she was rambling .Cremia could feel how she, in her attempt at making it sound like she had not already spent hours wondering the question, had made it blindingly obvious that she had done just that.

Slowly walking over to crouch down next to her, Anju confirmed the thought only a moment later. “Cremia, if there is anything—anything at all—you want to tell me, you can do that. I promise that I will not judge you.” she reached out, almost like she wanted to take her hand but changing the direction of the movement at the last moment, instead patting her knee while looking up at her with a look that was eerily similar to the way Cremia would look at a particularly stubborn version of a student’s experiment, almost like she was trying to will Cremia to cooperate and tell her what was wrong. “Anything at all,” Anju said, echoing herself, and Cremia noted how she did add a bit more force behind her words as she repeated herself once more.

She could have told her. It would have been easy, and afterwards, Cremia would even have been able to remind Anju that she had been the one to say that she could tell her anything. But that was the thing. Cremia did not want this to be a thing where she would have to use Anju’s own words against her afterwards. She did not want to tell Anju that the reason why she had behaved so weirdly for the last month—no, it was more, she had already started to become increasingly aware of just how she was sitting and how she was speaking in relation to Anju years ago, although it had perhaps taken her a long time to figure out what the feelings meant—and explain to her how she had just found herself compelled to get rid of a bloodstained flowers by flushing it down the drain, only to see how Anju would struggle to figure out what to say. Knowing Anju, Cremia already knew that ‘what to say’ would most likely include Anju trying to assure her that she did also love her, repeating it over and over again while speaking more to the flowers in her lungs than to Cremia herself. She did not want that, could not take that. After how much time she had spent fantasising about simply walking over to Anju and tell her how she was feeling, with there being moments, small glimpses, where Cremia could almost have made herself believe that there was a chance that Anju would return the feelings, it was far too late for Cremia to even try that. If she were to tell her, Cremia knew that Anju knew her well enough to be able to lie so well that she would not be able to tell whether or not she really meant it when she would no doubt try to convince her as well as the disease that the love was reciprocated, all in an attempt at curing her.

In a way, Cremia considered it almost ironic. Every time she coughed up a flower, she looked down at a tangible piece of evidence that her feelings for Anju were more than just her having confused the feelings of friendship with a that of a crush, and yet, it also made it so that she would have no way of knowing if Anju returned the feelings.

Cremia leant towards Anju, almost deciding that she would tell her the truth, being so sure that she had mustered up the courage that she almost managed to surprise herself when she heard her voice echo through the room, raspy and broken in the silence. “There is not anything wrong, I was just wondering. But it is nice to know that I can count on you two to be there for her. Although,” she tried to add a laugh, “I am of course not saying that I would ever expect you to adopt her or anything like that. I just wanted to make sure that she had someone who would maybe think about her from time to time if anything were to happen to me.”

In the silence that followed her attempt at making the crease between Anju’s brows and the slight trembling of Kafei’s lower lip disappear, Cremia could have sworn that she could hear the vines in her lungs twist, growing so that they were now covering yet another square centimetre.

Finally, Kafei broke the silence. “Of course we will. But now, I think that it might be time to talk about something else. Don’t get me wrong, I would absolutely make sure that Anju and I would stay in Romani’s life if—” his voice broke, and Cremia saw how Anju sent him a long glance as Kafei coughed once, twice, before continuing, “if something were to happen to you, but I just… I don’t want to think too much about it. And I am sure you agree with me, don’t you?”

Cremia glared at him, silently daring him to try to make it even more obvious to everyone in the room exactly what he was referring to with the way he wriggled his brows at her, something that, accompanied by the not at all subtle toss of the head, was sure to redirect Anju’s attention to her as well. Seeing how Anju turned away from Kafei once more to instead look at her, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ as she tried to make sense of their behaviour—which, to be fair, must have seemed strange to anyone who did not know about the flower in the drain—Cremia gritted her teeth and nodded at Kafei, mumbling something vague about how he was probably right.

The tense atmosphere between them did not disappear as Anju started the film, mentioning something about how she had chosen it specifically because it had been Cremia’s favourite back in college of education as she jumped over the coffee table to sit in the couch, pulling the bowl of popcorn closer to her, nor did it disappear as the end of the film neared. Granted, the awkwardness of it all was not at all helped by how Cremia could barely focus on the film, too busy noting how Kafei was sitting right next to Anju, leaning up against her shoulder while grabbing fistful after fistful of popcorn, leaving her with the jealousy of how he seemingly did not have to think twice about reaching out to nudge her in the side as the plot of the film slowly became more and more convoluted.

Once, she would simply have left the armchair and gone to join them on the couch, laughing along with them at the ridiculously bad acting. Once, Cremia had been able to just be herself, be natural, while she was with them. Goddesses, even when she had walked around with the knowledge that she was in love with her best friend, Cremia had still been able to laugh along with Anju’s jokes and put her arm around her shoulders without thinking too much about it. So of course the disease had had to manifest, countless of tiny bits of genetic code in her system lining up just right to let the infection take root in her lungs. That was just how it was for Cremia. First losing an aunt to a disease she had never heard about, then her parents to a car crash that would not have happened if the other driver had just _paid attention_ , and then Cremia herself completely failing to notice the tell-tale signs of a serious illness she knew she was genetically predisposed to suffer from. If she had just told Anju that morning all those months ago when she had looked in the mirror and realised that she, Cremia who was barely able to pay for the flat and still find money to buy her sister the bow she wanted, was almost definitely in love with her best friend, something that would surely end up creating the potential for her to end her friendship with both her and Kafei, if Cremia had just looked back at her reflection and decided that, no, she was actually not just Cremia who took care of her sister and tried her best not to wonder too much about whether or not Anju and Kafei had really meant it when they had announced that they preferred being friends to dating, she was Cremia, someone who would go and pick up the phone to call Anju and invite her out to a café where she could then tell her about the realisation. If she had just done that, then Cremia might not have been in this situation at all right now.

Maybe Anju and Kafei noticed how she barely glanced at the film and how her laugh was absent even as they reached what they had come to refer to as some of the funniest scenes in cinematic history, for as Kafei got up to start the next film, Cremia noticed how Anju grabbed his sleeve and whispered something to him, with the result being that as the film began, they both made sure to talk to her through it all, providing commentary on some of the dumber choices the protagonist made.

And somehow, despite the flowers, things changed. Cremia was not sure exactly when it happened, but sometime during the second half of the film, it all began to feel less stilted, a little less like Anju and Kafei had already gone over things they could ask her about. By the end of it, Cremia even laughed along with them, albeit less loudly, constantly having to make sure that the effort it took to force the air out of her lungs would not disrupt the fragile kind of normalcy in her lungs and throat she had finally been able to achieve by sitting almost perfectly still in the armchair.

Kafei was the first to get up from his spot on the couch, stretching with a loud yawn before he looked over at Cremia. “We should probably begin to set up your bed while we are still at least somewhat awake,” he said, blinking at her, “I don’t know about you guys, but I am ready to just order a pizza and then go to bed.”

“Well, I am not that tired, but, yeah, we should probably make sure that you will have somewhere to sleep once we do get to that point.” Anju agreed, leaning over to the side so that she could land a light punch on Cremia’s shoulder. “But just to warn you, I would not get my hopes up about this bed Kafei is talking about—we still haven’t got a new folding bed.”

Oh, goddesses, the folding bed. Cremia could easily recall the uncomfortable feeling of the metal framing, the sensation of something sharp and cold barely softened by the thin mattress that was thrown over it. It had been horrible to sleep on it, and that had been when she had been at least somewhat healthy. Now, Cremia could barely imagine how it would be like to try to lie down and sleep with the bed poking her throughout the entire night, searching for a vulnerable spot that, with how she could barely talk without pain shooting through her chest, would surely not be that difficult to locate.

But the apologetic tone in Anju’s voice and the way her hand was hovering above her shoulder, almost like she was not entirely sure that Cremia would not begin to cry at the thought of having to spend the night on the folding bed, was more than enough to make Cremia swallow her fear and try to ignore the voice that sounded so logical and smart and how it told her that sleeping on what could barely qualify for the title of a bed when she already spent the days in various states of either ‘uncomfortable’ or ‘in so much pain that she should not still be able to stand’ might not be the best idea.

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she lied, “really, as long as I still get a place to sleep, it will be fine.”

Despite her attempts of sounding relaxed and like she was not already dreading going to sleep, Anju saw through it, her hand finally landing on Cremia’s shoulder. “You could also sleep on the couch,” she said, squeezing her shoulder slightly, “I could find a sheet and make a bed for you.”

It was a much better idea. Although the couch was still not an ideal place to sleep, Cremia could recognise the fact that it was still a hundred, no, a thousand times better than the folding bed. However, sleeping on the couch would mean sleeping in the living room, and sleeping in the living room would mean waking up in the morning with the knowledge that she could have spent a good part of the night chatting with Anju, the two of them whispering into the darkness, barely able to see the other’s face, the way they had done while being roommates for so many years. If there was one thing the near-constant pain in her chest was reminding her of other than the fact that there was a real possibility that she might not live to see the next sunrise, it was that Cremia was in no position to let opportunities fly past her like that.

Shaking her head, Cremia tried her best to appear relaxed at the thought of the metal poking her in the side. “No, really, I don’t mind the folding bed. Really, if anything, I find it kind of… well, it’s not cute, but it does remind me of the good old days, you know?” the laugh that accompanied the memory of a certain one of those times was real, and although it made the pain in her chest worse, Cremia would not have traded it for anything. “Do you remember that time were we had to drag Kafei home after he had got way too drunk?”

From his spot next to Anju, Kafei smiled at her. “Hey, why don’t you just bring up every embarrassing thing I have ever done while you are at it?”

Anju simply laughed, and Cremia was relieved to see the tightness around her mouth disappear. “Yeah, that was that time where you managed to bet all of the money you had in your wallet that you would be able to climb up onto the roof of bar, was it not, Kafei?”

“Why are you asking me?” Kafei laughed, holding up his hands in front of himself. “I was drunk, remember? I can barely recall anything from that night other than how there was some guy in a mask who tried to steal my phone and then that Cremia stubbed her toe while dragging me up the stairs.” he looked over at her, and for once, the look that he sent her was simply teasing, no pitying look poorly hidden underneath. “I didn’t know that you were able to make up such creative synonyms for the person to invent the idea of the steps of the stairs sticking out, but you certainly proved to me that night that you would have been able to fit right in with all the other future Hylian teachers.”

“If you are going to continue to remind me of that,” Cremia warned him, “then you should also be prepared for me mentioning the amount of time you spent trying to decide which word to use to describe the colour of Anju’s hair in that poem you gave her during the Festival of Nayru.”

It was not until she heard Anju gasp slightly, a laugh interrupting the end of it, and saw how Kafei’s eyes widened that Cremia realised that maybe, just maybe, there was a reason that she had never heard Anju mention that poem.

“What poem?” Anju asked, immediately confirming Cremia’s suspicions of why she had walked past her litter bin a couple of days after the festival and caught a glimpse of a blue piece of paper that looked an awful lot like the letter Kafei had placed the poem in, the deep colour making the poor attempt at hiding the envelope underneath a couple of papers a waste of energy. “What poem are you talking about?” this time, Anju did not merely ask. No, she leant over, shaking Cremia ever so slightly while she pouted at her.

“Don’t tell her!” Kafei yelled, but from the way he was sitting, hiding his face behind his hand, Cremia knew that he had already admitted defeat, realising that with Anju pouting at her and specifically asking her to share something with her, no amounts or orders for her not to say anything would be enough to make the secret remain a secret for that long.

Cremia sent a glance towards Kafei, shrugging her shoulders ever so slightly. “I am sorry, but don’t think I really have a choice here.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you don’t,” Kafei said, but he was not able to hide the soft tone in his voice, “just try not to embarrass me too much, will you?”

“Of course, you are already taking care of that on your own.” as Kafei let out a loud groan, Cremia directed her attention towards Anju. Noting the way her heartrate sped up considerable as she was once again met with the sight of Anju smiling at her, Cremia tried her best to ignore the sharp pain in her throat to instead focus on the story. “You see, for some reason, Kafei had decided that he needed to do something to celebrate the day—what was it Kafei?” she looked back over at him, a teasing edge to her voice, “Had you just learnt about poetry or something? Well, no matter his reasons, he ended up spending hours in our room while you were attending lectures, trying to figure out whether or not your hair was ‘the shade of the sun’,” Cremia let her voice rise slightly as she tried to recall the other options Kafei had presented her with, “or if it was actually ‘copper and yet even more beautiful than gold’. Goddesses, do you know how many times I had to remind him that you would probably just be happy that he even sat down to try to write a poem at all?” she laughed slightly, glad that the large back of the armchair coupled with the soft material made sure to hide how it was immediately followed by her winching from the pain of disrupting the flowers in her lungs.

Thankfully, Anju was too busy looking over at Kafei to notice how Cremia’s hand almost automatically flew up to touch her sternum, pressing against it like it would ease the pain a little.

“Is that true?” she asked. When Kafei nodded, mumbling something that vaguely sounded like he tried to tell her that the poem had simply not been able to meet his standards, she continued. “You know, that almost makes me a bit sad that you didn’t actually give it to me. I’m sure it would have been fun to look back at it now and see what words you had chosen to describe me while we were still a couple.”

“Fun, you say,” Kafei grumbled, not able to hide the wide smile as he looked over at them, “I would probably use words such as ‘embarrassing’, and ‘something that would be able to ruin Kafei’s self-esteem completely when you force him to come to terms with the fact that his twenty year old self was probably one of the most annoying poets to ever exist’ but, sure, it might be fun for you to listen to me showing my professors exactly why they made the biggest mistakes of their lives the day they gave me good enough grades to let me graduate.”

Slowly letting her hand fall back down to rest next to her in the armchair, Cremia chimed in. “Hey, you are being too hard on yourself. It wasn’t actually that bad.”

“Oh, but it was. Goddesses, I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote it. If Nayru had been able to read it when I applied for a teaching post here, I am almost completely sure that she would have thought twice before letting me teach a bunch of children how to write Hylian and how to construct sentences properly.” he shook his head at Anju’s disbelieving gaze. “No, really. I promise you, the only good thing that poem would have been able to do was that it might possibly have made us realise that it was just not working for us to be a couple a few of months before we arrived at that conclusion on our own.” he made a grimace, clearly recalling the text of the poem. “Goddesses, Anju, I know what you are about to say, but trust me, it really was that bad. I think a managed to accidentally imply that I had preferred it when we were friends at least a couple of times, which,” he shrugged, “I mean, I guess I was right, but still. It was an awful poem.”

“Again,” Cremia said, jumping into the discussion, “it wasn’t that bad.” she could tell that Kafei was about to argue with her, so she hurried to continue, not giving him the opportunity to even begin. “No, but really, parts of it were almost good.”

“I wish I could have seen it.” Anju commented. For some reason, as Cremia looked back over at her, she found her looking wistfully into the distance, before blinking a couple of times and smiling at her. “I guess I will just never get to know, will I? Unless you can remember some of it, of course.”

“No, you really don’t want to hear me trying to piece together the few words I remember of a poem I spent days discussing with Kafei years ago,” Cremia warned her.

But Anju just tilted her head to the side, reaching up to tap a finger against her cheek. “Maybe I do.” a smile that made Cremia acutely aware of how the flowers were spreading in her lungs and Anju laughed. “If nothing else, I think you might have a chance of making it sound at least somewhat okay.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Kafei interjected, leaning over to her to grab a fistful of popcorn, “Cremia was good at attempting to make me see that I was not good at thinking of words that would rhyme with your name, but when it came to reading what I had written, she was possibly even worse at it than I was.” he threw a popcorn towards Cremia, and she instinctively reached up to catch it as he grinned. “Yeah, I know, I know; it sounds impossible, but it is the truth.”

While Anju laughed, Cremia found herself looking down at the tiny piece of popcorn. Already, she knew that she had made the wrong decision when she had reached up to catch it, for now she sat there with the tiny piece of popped grain of corn, the salt making her sweaty palms sticky, and no way of getting rid of it that would not require her to actually eat it and feel how it would get stuck on the flower in her throat. Making a quick decision, Cremia crushed the popcorn, doing her best not to worry too much about the fact that it felt much more difficult than it should have been considering it was little more than air, and tried to convince herself that it would not hurt as she quickly ate it. Just as she had expected, it got stuck in her throat, but at the very least, she could tell herself that it would have been worse if she had not thought to crush it beforehand.

Cremia was not sure if Anju had noticed anything, but as she jumped to her feet only a couple of minutes after, declaring that she thought it was time for them to order that pizza Kafei had been talking about, she could not help but wonder if the grimace she had made while trying to force the popcorn down past the flower had maybe not been as discreet as she had hoped to make it, for Anju looked straight at her as she informed them of how it was time to eat, making Cremia have to fake a smile as she tried her best not to picture the way a pizza would pull and tuck at the flowers. If she could barely eat popcorn without wincing, how was she supposed to make it through dinner without either giving Kafei another reason to worry about her and consider telling Anju or her ending up giving away her secret herself?

The answer, as it turned out to be, was that she did it by being careful and only eating the pizza that consisted of little more than bread and a thin layer of tomato sauce. Picturing the way the evening that had otherwise been quite pleasant would turn awkward in an instant if she was not able to keep up the act of there being nothing wrong with her, Cremia was just barely able to finish her slice without coughing up the flower and blood that pushed against the back of her mouth. Really, the goddesses might not have been merciful when they let her feel the pain of the Hanahaki Disease, but at least they allowed her to find some hidden fountain of strength, allowing her to keep up the pretence of everything being fine for another day.

As Cremia lay on the folding bed that night, feeling how a piece of wire had come apart from where it was supposed to connect with the leg of the bed, the tip of it jutting out of the mattress, barely able to make out the silhouette of Anju in the darkness that filled the room, she knew that the pain of coming here to grin and bear it had been all worth it, especially as Anju shifted, turning around to look at her. In the darkness, Cremia could hear how Anju moved the duvet aside slightly, sticking out her hand towards her. She did not hesitate to reach out and take it.

“I meant what I said, you know,” Anju told her, and for a second, Cremia almost opened her mouth to ask what exactly she was referring to, before the squeeze Anju gave her made sure that she knew exactly what topic they were talking about, “if you ever want to tell me just a little about what that poem said, I am sure you would be amazing at remembering it and… everything else.”

The lack of lightning in the room was a blessing, for right then, Cremia was almost entirely certain that the tips of her ears were the same shade of red as Anju’s hair.

“I really don’t think you would still think that if you had seen the discussions about which words would be best to describe your hear,” she whispered back to her, “it was just a mess of synonyms that did not fit, words that did not rhyme, and, of course, a lot of things that were barely more than an insult towards you.”

“Sure, sure.” Cremia could almost hear the smile in Anju’s voice. “But I would still like to hear about it. Look, I have an idea.” the sound of fabric rustling slightly told her that Anju had pushed herself up onto her elbow, and as she continued, her voice did also come from a little higher up. “If I write you a poem, will you agree to tell me what you remember of the one you and Kafei wrote about me?”

She should say no. Listening to some poem Anju had written about her solely so that she could also laugh about how Kafei had seemingly forgot every single word in the Hylian language when he had sat down to compose a poem for her and imagining what it would have been like if she had been brave enough to bring herself in a situation where it might have been the truth, it would bring her nothing but pain and give the flowers even more reason to grow.

With the way her breathing was sounding in the silence of Anju’s bedroom, laboured and shallow, Cremia could tell that she would not be able to survive losing much more of her lung capacity to the flowers. And yet, even though she had already decided that she would have to laugh and insist that it really was not a good idea, Cremia found herself smiling up at Anju, words coming out of her mouth that were completely unlike what she had planned to say. “Well, if you actually write that poem, then I might be able to tell you what I remember. But it is also a safe bet for me, so if I were you, I would not even attempt to do it.”

“What do you mean?”

The sound of genuine confusion in Anju’s voice took her by surprise, and, for a moment, Cremia was unable to do much else than shrug, before realising that Anju would not be able to see it in the darkness of her room and forcing herself to say something. “Well, you know. It is a bit difficult to fake a love poem.”

“I am sure I would figure something out.”

Had she said anything wrong? Cremia could not figure out what it was, but with how Anju had gone from laughing to pulling away from her in just a matter of seconds, hurt apparent in her voice, Cremia knew that it was something she had said that had caused the change.

“Look,” she began, still unsure of what exactly she was about to apologise for, “I didn’t mean it like that, I am sorry—”

But Anju interrupted her before she got the chance to finish her sentence. “No, no. It is nothing, don’t worry. I just… I just forgot about something. It was my fault.”

If she were to turn on the light, Cremia was sure that she would look up at Anju to find that her eyes were shiny, but with the darkness all but stealing her vision away completely and with the pain that flared through her body as her lungs fought to force enough air through her system numbing the rest of her senses considerably as well, Cremia could only listen to Anju.

Still, even that was more than enough to tell her that Anju was trying her best not to cry as she continue to mumble, her voice sounding small and broken. “Just… forget about it.” a laugh that sounded exactly as forced as the ones Cremia had given her friends for the last month tore into the night. “But just because you are still trying to dissuade me from accepting my own suggestion, I am going to raise the stakes a bit and say that I will write the poem and then show it to you, and then, if you actually think it is good, but only if you think that, you will have to tell me everything you remember from the poem.”

“I might have to talk with Kafei about that.”

“But if he says yes?”

“If he says yes,” Cremia said, letting the sounds become a little longer than what was strictly necessary in an attempt to buy herself some more time, “then I will consider it.”

That, and she would consider whether or not it would kill her to have to read a poem Anju had written about her. If she was even still alive by the time Anju would have finished the poem, that was. It was not exactly a comforting thought, and if anyone had told her just a little over a month ago that she would lie here on the folding bed after having spent the day with Anju and Kafei and try to use the thought of maybe dying before she would have to read such a poem as a way to make herself feel better and less lost, Cremia would have laughed at them and told them that there was no way that would ever happen. And yet, here she was, so close to Anju while still feeling how the gulf between them had never been as wide and as deep as it was now, with flowers growing in her chest.

She fell asleep shortly after Anju had laughed, saying something about how she would accept that deal. If she was honest with herself, Cremia was relieved to let the thoughts and the pain leave her for a moment, even if it was only a couple of hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit longer than the others, but I just needed for all of these things to happen here :)
> 
> Also, my entire country shut down this Wednesday (because of the Corona virus), and for a moment, I thought that that would mean that I would get more time to write. Then it turned out that I was wrong - if anything, the teachers give even more homework now. So I have that to deal with on top of the fact that just about everything about this Corona virus makes me anxious which is... not fun.
> 
> I don't really know whether or not that is going to influence my ability to focus on my WIPs, but I just wanted to let you know, that, just in case I don't have enough mental energy to write and post here, I apologise in advance, because that is not my intention.


	5. Chapter 5

She was halfway through her lunch when she felt someone stand next to her. With a smile in place already, the grimace feeling more like a makeshift armour than an actual way to express happiness, Cremia placed the sandwich back down onto the plate in front of her and turned around in her seat, only for the sight of Anju standing there, a hand placed on her shoulder and an unsure look on her face to steal her words away.

“Nayru asked me to find you,” Anju said as she apparently realised that the little nod Cremia sent her was her way of showing her that she was unable to speak in that moment, “she said she wanted to talk with you about something. You should probably go find her right now; it sounded serious.”

With the way Anju’s gaze kept flickering between Cremia, the sandwich, and her own hand that still rested on Cremia’s shoulder, Cremia could tell in an instant that it was more than just the usual discussion about whether or not any of the teachers had anything they wanted to suggest about how they could make the school better or if there were any complaints about anything. No, as Anju had said, this was serious.

Standing up, the tight feeling in her chest was not only due to the lack of lung capacity, anxiety already growing in her stomach.

Still, she tried her best to not let the worry show on her face as she nodded. “Oh! Okay, yeah, well, she did also mention something about how there were a couple of things about the curriculum for the next semester she wanted to talk with me about.” at least that part was somewhat true as long as Cremia ignored how the conversation had taken place the day after she had first been hired. “Let me just go and find her. Is she in her office?”

From the way Anju cocked her head ever so slightly, a crease appearing between her brows as she carefully inspected her face, Cremia could tell that she had noticed the lie. But for reasons Cremia could not think of, she did not mention it, merely nodding. “Yes, she is.”

Cremia barely paused to send her a smile before all but running towards the door leading out into the hallway. It was only the fact that she could feel Anju’s gaze on her as she walked past the rows of tables that made her able to control herself enough to ignore the urge to sprint to Nayru’s office as quickly as the pain shooting through her lungs and the lack of oxygen would have allowed her to move. But after how she had seen her glance at her during that Saturday, the last thing she could have wanted was for her to give Anju yet another reason to worry about her. The way Kafei seemed to believe that even such a simple thing as opening a door for herself would be what would finally make Cremia’s body give up completely was annoying enough on its own already even if he was probably right about that with the way Cremia had to push her shoulder against the door, placing her entire bodyweight behind it just to be able to leave the room. She did not need to have Anju following her around in an attempt at making her life easier as well.

So Cremia did her best to not let the worry show until she was sure that she was alone in the corridor. Then, however, she did also allow herself to imagine just what might have caused Nayru to send Anju to her with a message that specified the importance of Cremia coming to see her at the earliest opportunity. What was happening? Was she about to be fired? At the thought, Cremia’s blood felt colder than ice. If she lost her job, Cremia could not see how she would be able to make ends meet. Already, the job offer had come at the last possible moment before her unemployment allowance and the inheritance would no longer have been enough to let her and Romani keep the flat, and despite the fact that she had made sure to put money into a savings account each month, she was aware of how it would not be able to last them for very long. But why was she suddenly at risk of getting fired? While the last month had undoubtedly passed by in a haze for her, Cremia could not remember a single instance of her messing anything up, at least not something that she was then not able to fix the next instant. Yes, she had indeed found herself coughing up another flower while going over the assignments her fourth graders had written about electricity, but she had made sure to shove the papers aside in time to make sure that she had not let even a single drop of blood hit them, had she not?

As Cremia tried to recall the hours she had spent at home, trying her best to ignore the illness that slowly took up more and more of her lungs, she was not that sure anymore. She could remember looking down and thinking that she had been lucky to have been able to move the assignments in time, but with the way the pain had made small, black dots dance in front of her eyes, Cremia was not so sure anymore that she might not have missed a couple of spots.

Her heart was beating impossibly fast, feeling like it was about to jump out of her chest each time it hit against her ribcage as Cremia opened the door and stepped into the headmistress’ office. The fact that Nayru was already waiting for her only made it worse, Cremia suddenly all too aware of how her mouth went dry, her brain completely empty as she searched for anything she could have said to defend herself.

“Cremia, why don’t you sit down?” Nayru asked, nodding towards the chair on the opposite side of the table. “I have something I want to talk with you about.”

“Uh, sure.” Cremia began, but her legs felt like they had been replaced with wooden planks, leaving her unable to do much else than continue to stare at Nayru, the ideas of just what could happen now becoming worse and worse.

What if they had thought that she had stolen something from the school? Cremia knew that she hadn’t, but with the combination of the flowers in her lungs and the sweat that was running down her back as her panicked brain tried its best not to give up completely and leave her to cry on the floor, she doubted that she would be able to stay alive for long enough for them to figure out that they had made a mistake.

Nayru looked at her, raising her eyebrows just a bit, and it was not until then that Cremia realised that she was supposed to sit down, that she was still standing in the middle of the room, shaking despite the warm air around her.

Forcing herself to totter over to the chair, Cremia smiled at her, the grimace making her cheeks hurt. “Anju told me that you wanted to talk with me,” she said, maintaining a neutral expression as she leant in over the table ever so slightly, hoping to convey that she had not done anything wrong, that she was a good teacher, or that she tried at least to be, and just wanted to be able to continue to come into work each day, not only because she had her little sister to care for, but also because she did genuinely care about seeing how her students made progress.

“Yes.” Nayru nodded. “I did.” she paused, just for enough time to let Cremia resume her worries, before continuing. “How are you doing lately?”

The question was completely different from what Cremia had expected. There was no trace of Nayru being about to accuse her of having helped some of the older students plagiarise their essays, nothing that would require for Cremia to defend herself.

And maybe that was it, the time she had already spent mentally preparing for the worst that came to the surface, for although Nayru smiled at her, her body language open and friendly as she sat there, looking at her, when Cremia answered her, she lied like she had prepared for that exact moment for several hours. “I am doing great, thank you.”

“And your sister? I know that you have cared for her since you lost your parents, so tell me, is she doing all right as well?” when Cremia nodded, still not sure about where the conversation was heading, Nayru sighed. “Because if you are feeling stressed about anything or if there is something wrong at home, you can tell us, and then we will try to figure out a way to work around it. Have you considered using the option of coming to work a little bit later and then just working a bit longer once you get a bit more time?”

“No,” Cremia answered before stammering, “I mean, yes, I have, but I don’t need it. Romani is really good at getting ready in time in the morning, so it is really not an issue. Besides, she has to go to school as well, so it is not even an option for her to be late. Why are you asking?” the question sounded horribly confrontational, but as Cremia only caught it after it had already left her mouth, the only thing she could really do was to hurry to tack a smile onto the end of it, hoping that it would be enough to soften the harsh edge of the words.

She could see how Nayru studied her face, but had no idea of just what she was looking for. If Nayru had asked her to come to her office because she wanted to make her confess to anything, would she not already have mentioned it? Cremia could not see any reason for why she would not have done just that. But if this was not about her having done anything wrong, then why did Nayru look at her with that look, looking like she was trying her best to look behind the façade that Cremia had placed in front of her?

Finally, Nayru glanced down at her table for a moment. When she turned her attention back towards her once more, Cremia could see the way her expression had softened considerably. It was almost strangely maternal, but even then, Cremia did not know what to think about it, nor did she know what to say. From the way Nayru’s lower lip was trembling and how a slight tuck at the muscles around her mouth was apparent as she looked at her, Cremia would almost have dared to think that the headmistress of Clock Town School was close to tears. But that could not be right. There was no reason to cry; Cremia had seen the average grades of the students of the school, she knew about how the number at the end of their accounts was bigger than it had ever been before. Everything was fine. So then why did Nayru look like she was only a few seconds away from crying?

Nayru opened her mouth, giving Cremia her answer. “You see, a few of your colleagues have come to me to express a growing concern about your wellbeing—” when Cremia tried to interject, tried to say something, anything, about how they were wrong and that she was fine, tried to beg Nayru not to fire her, Nayru held up her hand, making Cremia fall silent, too afraid of making the situation any worse than what it already was if she said anything, instead allowing for Nayru to continue, “and I must say that they are not alone. Just this morning, there have already been a couple of students here to tell me that they think you are not well. Although I must admit that, in the beginning, I had assumed that it was just something minor, but” the corners of her lips curled downwards, and that was the first time Cremia had seen the usually calm headmistress look like that, “I am beginning to agree with them. You don’t look like you are feeling good enough to be at work.”

“No!” the exclaim was sudden and a much louder sound than what Cremia would have thought herself capable of producing with how the flowers grew in her lungs, stealing what little air she had left away. But it worked, making both herself and Nayru fall silent, Nayru looking at her with a disbelieving expression. Vaguely aware of how she had just yelled at the headmistress of the school and that she should probably apologise if she wanted to keep her job, Cremia continued. “Please, I promise that I am doing just fine. This is a minor thing, I promise, a bout of influenza or something like that!” the tears made her eyes feel like they were burning, but she refused to blink. The risk of the tears beginning to stream down her face if she did anything other than staring at Nayru with a pathetically pleading look was simply too big. “Don’t fire me; I know that I will be able to push through this!”

“Nobody was talking about firing you.” Nayru looked appalled, eyes wide at the suggestion, “but we are worried about you. Have you gone to see a doctor about this?”

Cremia paused for a moment. She could tell her. Within all the pages of her contract, Cremia was almost certain that she had read something about how Nayru would not be allowed to share any details about Cremia’s medical history with anyone no matter what those details might entail. Granted, she was probably also not allowed to ask directly about it, but Cremia was able to push that concern towards the back of her mind. It was the perfect opportunity to ask someone who did not know her the same way Anju and Kafei did for help, to let someone who knew more about the world than she did give her a piece of advice about what to do about the flowers growing in her lungs.

But as Cremia met Nayru’s gaze and saw the same kind of worry she had received from Romani and Kafei reflected in there, the lie left her mouth almost automatically as she nodded. “Yes, I went to see my doctor just last week. She said it was fine, nothing contagious. So, yes, it would probably have been best for me to stay at home, but there is no risk of me infection anyone else so I wanted to come to work. Besides, it is not that bad at all; it just sounds a lot worse than it really is.”

“Hmm.” Nayru sent her a look that spoke of just how little she believed that last part. Cremia made sure to smile, forcing herself to swallow the mouthful of blood that had gathered underneath her tongue, and finally Nayru did also nod at her. “Very well then. If you want to, I am not going to stop you from coming to work even if you are not feeling great. Just remember to take care of yourself if it gets any worse, will you?”

“Of course.” Cremia almost jumped up from her chair, barely managing to reach out and grip onto the armrests to keep herself from leaving the room right that instant, eager to walk away before she would have given Nayru the chance to change her mind.

With a smile, Nayru nodded towards the door. “In that case, I suppose you might want to get back to your class. Sorry about this taking up almost all of your lunch break.”

“Don’t think about it, I don’t mind at all.” but Cremia knew that the attempt at distracting Nayru from the fact that she quite obviously could not wait to leave the room was immediately rendered pointless by how she barely kept herself from sprinting to the door, somehow finding the strength to throw it open, for once not struggling with the task.

As she stood out there in the hallway and felt how her brain was finally able to catch up, leaving the panic behind, the implications of what had just happened dawned on her. Somehow, even with how she had tried her very best not to let anyone see her struggles, Cremia had still failed to hide it properly, and now people around her were beginning to become suspicious. Hopefully, the colleagues Nayru had mentioned had only been Kafei, but right then, Cremia knew that she could not afford the luxury of letting herself assume the best. For all she knew, Kafei might not be the only one who had noticed how she always went to the bathroom, and if her students had begun to go to the headmistress to tell her that they worried about her, then Cremia could only imagine who might also have noticed.

Her head spun. Standing there in the deserted hallway, Cremia could not begin to imagine what she could do to make it all go back to normal. No, she was tired, so very tired that she wanted nothing more than to be able to sit down and sleep for hours.

But her students were waiting for her, and Cremia did not want to give them yet another reason to worry about her, so she forced herself to move down the hallway, towards the science and technology classrooms.

It would be fine; she just had to keep up the pretence for a little while longer. Soon, it would be over.

+++

“Cremia, are you feeling all right?”

The voice of the student—which one it was, she did not know, not now, not as she, with her blurry vision, would barely have been able to tell the difference between Darunia and Saria as she fought to stay upright, black and white dots dancing in front of her eyes,—pulled her back to the present, only to find that she had yet to let go of the essay she was supposed to hand back over to the student in front of her.

Shaking her head, Cremia tried to pretend that it was on purpose, smiling and generally trying to hide how she could feel the blood coming up her throat along with the flower. “Oh, yeah, sorry, I guess I must have been thinking about something. Perhaps it was how good that explanation about the conductivity of metal was.”

The joke fell flat as the student—by now, Cremia was somewhat able to make out the generally look of them, and from what she could see, it seemed much more likely that it was Saria—only tilted their head to the side slightly. “I didn’t write about the conductivity of metal, though. This was an assignment where we had to describe the characteristics of our favourite animal, remember? I wrote about seagulls.”

A sense of dread pooled in her stomach, but it was not enough to stop Cremia from at the very least attempting to save the situation. The look on the student’s face—yes, it was probably Saria—told her that her plan was not working that well, but, nevertheless, Cremia continued with the fakest laugh she had ever heard. “Oh, yeah, I was just trying to see if you were paying attention. Good for you that you were.” she let go of the piece of paper, mentally berating herself for not having done so when the student had first mentioned it. “And it was a wonderful essay, really, you should be proud of yourself, Saria. It was a joy to read.”

“I’m Aryll.”

Cremia could tell how the only reason her vision returned in that instant was so that the illness could taunt her even more, for now, she was able to see the blonde pigtails move slightly as Aryll tilted her head to the side. Why she had not been able to recognise her was beyond Cremia, though she did suspect that the pain in her chest was at the very least partly to blame for how she had completely failed to recognise her.

It would appear that Aryll was also trying to figure out what the reasons for her being mistaken for being Saria was, as she did not return to her seat, even after Cremia had finally let go of her assignment, instead looking at her with an expression on her face that told Cremia so much more than any words could have.

Already before Aryll continued, Cremia knew that this was it, now her students were aware of her illness as well, but that did not keep her heart from sinking to the floor as she listened to Aryll’s worried tone of voice. “Actually, you don’t look like you are feeling well. I could go and tell my class teacher that you are going home if you want me to, just like you usually do for me!”

From the way her voice got a bit higher during the last half of the sentence, Cremia could tell that, much like herself, Aryll was making everything up as she went along. But still, even though she could vividly remember how it was to be Aryll’s age and how everything was so simple, just going home when you were sick and getting someone to go tell a teacher, Cremia knew that her life was not that easy anymore. She could hardly blame the Hanahaki Disease and the flowers for all of that, not with how she was still trying to figure out how she would be able to pay the next club dues to allow Romani to continue with her archery and generally having more responsibilities than when she had been a child, but that would not keep her from at least attempting to. If nothing else, the disease had made her life even more complicated than before, more complicated than she wanted it to be.

But with the way Aryll was looking up at her, her head tilted slightly to the side and a twinkle in her eyes like she herself believed that she had just helped Cremia make all of her problems go away, she would not be able to say no. So Cremia didn’t. Instead, she laughed slightly and prayed that Aryll would not hear how the sound was broken and pained. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan! But I am actually already starting to feel better, so I don’t think it will be needed at all.”

“Really?” Aryll’s eyes shone and she did not wait for Cremia’s answer before running over to hug her. “I’m happy to hear that!”

Cremia tried her best to laugh, but it was all stilted and fake. She had succeeded in cheering up Aryll, and despite how loudly Aryll had talked, when Cremia looked out towards the rest of the class, she found that they were all too preoccupied with reading the chapter in their books to pay any attention to them.

That was all very well, the class almost appearing to be the picture-perfect example she had known it could be, but that did nothing to change how Cremia now knew for a fact that some of her students were indeed worried about her. Even worse, she knew that if she died—and with how much energy each breath required from her lately, that was beginning to look like it would be the most likely outcome of all of this—it would not only hurt Romani and her friends, but possibly also affect some of her students. It had all been so abstract before when she had been able to sit in Nayru’s office and assure her that everything was fine while forcing herself not to picture any of those who might be sad if she died, but now, Cremia was not so sure that she could allow for anything to happen to her.

+++

It was only a few of days after Aryll had noticed the illness that Anju pulled her aside as well.

At first, when she had grabbed her hand at the end of the day just as Cremia was ready to leave the room after the latest staff meeting, her body already sighing in relief at the prospect of soon being able to somewhat relax, not having to do anything but lie in bed and get some rest, Cremia had taken a single look at Anju’s face before feeling how her heart skipped a beat. Seeing the way Anju had knitted her brows, her forehead slightly creased and with her lips pressed together, there was no doubt in her mind that she knew. _She knew_. Somehow, despite everything Cremia had done to hide it, Anju had become aware of the fact that one of her best friends was in love with her.

“I need to speak with you for a moment,” Anju whispered, keeping her voice down enough so that no one else in the room apart from Cremia would be able to hear her, something that only served to make it all even worse, “alone.”

Cremia swallowed, and if there was one good thing about the horrible situation she had found herself in, it would have to be the fact that she was not able to taste the coppery taste of her own blood that well through the misty sensation of panic taking control of her brain. Rationally, she knew that the worst thing that could happen as a result of this was that she would have to get through a quite awkward conversation with Anju.

For she knew her, she knew that that was really the worst that could happen. Anju had stayed friends with Kafei when they had woken up after one of their usual film nights to find that the mark of smeared lipstick on Kafei’s cheek matched Anju’s perfectly, she had stayed friends with him when they had dated, and continued to be friends with him when they were forced to admit that they had simply continued to be friends even when they had tried to convince themselves that they were dating. It was fine. Cremia knew Anju well enough to know without a doubt that there was no risk of her fears of Anju pulling her aside to tell her with a furious look in her eyes that she knew and that it would be better if they stopped being friends coming into reality. It simply was not possible. But another, even larger truth was that with the pain emerging from her chest, the sensation making its way through the rest of her body, and the panic in her brain numbing her other senses, it was nearly impossible for her to listen to any of the reasons she should know that she had nothing to fear.

So Cremia followed along, walking a couple of steps behind Anju as the redhead led her out of the room and into an empty classroom, feeling how her heart was now both struggling with the lack of air and the tension that had taken hold of here.

Closing the door behind them, Anju pulled out a chair and pointed at it. “Sit down.”

The lack of room in her tone for any objections made sure that Cremia did exactly as she was told. This was not how Anju usually acted, and of course, the fact that Cremia now had no idea what to expect was soon used as another way for the panic to grow even stronger. After all, Anju had never ordered her around like that; there was always some sort of ‘please’ or ‘if you want to’ tacked onto the end of the sentence, and now that she had done just that, who was to say that Anju would not also tell her that although she had never ended a friendship over a kiss or a crush before, this was simply too much, they had known each other for so long that she had expected more from her, and that this was a betrayal she would not be able to forgive?

Cremia did not know the answer, but she had a nagging feeling that there was an obvious reason for that: that it was because she had no way of knowing what was about to happen as the seconds of silence between them came to an end.

As Anju pulled out a chair for herself and sat down, Cremia did not try to hold her breath, but with the way the panic was affecting every little part of her and the fact that her lungs were already struggling even before the adrenaline had begun flowing through her veins along with the blood, she might as well have. It all seemed distant, like the sound of Anju mumbling about how she had wanted to talk with her about something for a long time and the sensation of her reaching out to pat her knee lightly did not truly register in her brain. It was not until Cremia forced herself to shake her head, blinking furiously to force herself to pay attention to Anju rather than the panic that she was able to make out the words.

“—and just so you know, I am not trying to judge you,” Anju said, voice rising towards the end of the sentence. From the way she was waving her arms around, clearly in an attempt at making her hands convey what her voice could not, Cremia would have known that she had missed the first part of the sentence even if it had not already left her feeling confused and disoriented as Anju added, “because goddesses knows that you have a lot to deal with right now. But the thing is that, lately, you have begun to act… well, weird. Please don’t take this the wrong way, because that is not how it is meant, but just… you are acting strange.”

It took Cremia a moment too long to realise that the way Anju was looking at her, lifting her left eyebrow slightly and making her eyes slightly wider, was her way of telling her that now was her moment to explain.

Struggling to figure out what she could say that would make Anju stop worrying about her while still not being enough to give away her secret, Cremia shrugged, buying herself that extra second to think about her answer. “Yeah, I guess I have also been a bit busy lately. You know, with Romani and her archery lessons and all that. I have just been… feeling a bit too stressed for a while.”

But Anju shook her head so intensely that several strands of red hair escaped from their spot behind her ears. “No, that’s not what I am talking about.” she paused, and Cremia could almost tell the thoughts that lay behind her decision to reach out to place a hand on her shoulder, how Anju carefully considered the question of whether or not it would be a good idea to move with how, to use Anju’s own words, strange she was behaving. “I have seen how you act when you are worried about Romani. I have seen how you look when you are trying to figure out how to make ends meet and make it to the end of the month. It is not how you look right now, let me tell you that.”

“Well, then how do I look right now?” it was perhaps not the best question to ask, not with how the only thing Cremia wanted to do right then was to leave the room so that she would be able to sprint to the nearest toilet and cough up the flower that rested in her mouth, barely held back by sheer willpower alone. No, it was definitely not a smart question to ask, not with how she had already seen where her attempts of isolating herself had taken her, but in that moment, Cremia did not care about tactics and what words she should string together to make Anju stop asking questions while looking at her with the kind of soft expression in her eyes that made her want to cry and tell her everything. She did, however, genuinely want to hear what Anju’s answer to that question would be, and part of her could not help but wonder whether that had been the reason for how it had forced its way out into the world.

“I don’t know.” Anju hesitated and Cremia could not tell whether it was because she was afraid of ending up insulting her or if the reasons for why Anju’s gaze flickered away from her eyes were something else entirely. “You… you look lonely, like you are trying your best to hide something. You have been looking like that for quite a while now, but I didn’t want to say anything. I guess that I had hoped that if I just waited, then you would tell me on your own. And maybe it is all a sign that you would actually prefer if I stopped asking you about this all the time.” Anju mumbled the words, making it so that Cremia had to lean in towards her to be able to catch everything, the fact that she could barely sense anything other than the pain in her chest not making the situation much better. “But I am still going to ask you. Just this one last time and then, if you tell me to stop, I will stop. Is there anything wrong? You can tell me, no matter what it is, and then, I will try my best to help you if you will let me or stop asking you all the time if that is what you want me to. Just… I need to know. Please. If nothing else, then just say yes or no; I don’t have to know what exactly is wrong if you don’t want to tell me, I just have to know if there is anything wrong.”

In a heartbeat, it felt like something clicked inside of her, the doors finally opening to let the sunlight in. Really, it was most likely the fact that Anju looked like she was close to tears that was the decisive factor for her, but right then, Cremia knew that she would have to tell her.

And she began to do it. She really did. Cremia opened her mouth fully intent on just telling her the reason for why she had been silent and seemed so distant lately, but the only thing that came out was blood. A mouthful of warm, sticky blood fell out of her mouth, what little did not immediately hit the floor between her and Anju dripping down her chin and staining the front of her blouse.

Unable to do anything, Cremia simply stared at it. It should not have felt this way, she should not be able to look down at herself and state that, oh, her throat hurt a lot and she could barely breathe and now she had also just spit out what looked like a significant amount of blood, but that was nevertheless exactly what she was doing, simply looking down at and trying to understand how she had been able to keep that back for so long.

However, where Cremia only felt an oddly detached sense of peace, Anju did anything but that.

A loud scream echoed in the air between them as she jumped backwards, and Cremia could hear how her hip connected with the table behind her, almost making Anju fall over as she pointed towards the tiny puddle of blood on the floor.

“What is that? Cremia!”

With a wild look in her eyes, Anju’s gaze flickered back and forth between Cremia and the blood, and if Cremia had not been there, had not felt the warmth of the blood as she tried her best to push what was still left in her mouth back down, she would have cast a single glance at Anju, seen her pale face, and concluded that it was Anju who had just coughed up blood. But it wasn’t. Cremia had done that herself, all because she had first spent over a month trying her best to hide the fact that she had flowers growing in her lungs.

No, it had started before that. The background for the blood that now separated them had been created the day Cremia had woken up on the folding bed to look up at Anju and realise that there was a reason why she always seemed to gravitate towards her, why she always turned towards Anju the first after finishing a joke, waiting to see whether or not she would laugh, why she had looked at the way Anju’s hair had appeared to be aflame rather than at the sunset that time she, Anju, and Kafei had sneaked out of their tiny dorm rooms, Kafei having paid his roommate to stay quiet so that they could sit outside on the roof and watch the sunset. Or rather, it had started when she had noticed Anju’s eyelids fluttering slightly and promptly pretended that she too had only just woken up, too scared to admit that she had just realised that she was in love with her best friend and had feelings for her that she did not know how to deal with.

“Anju,” she mumbled weakly, stumbling forwards towards her. Cremia was not sure if the name had been meant as a cry for help or if the hopeful and foolish part of her that had already been responsible for the flower that hit to floor as a wet, painful cough made its way up her throat somehow knew that now, when it looked like she was about to die, she would want for her last words to be her name.

Anju responded, the panic giving way to the same kind of quick, decisive actions Cremia had seen the day they had been sitting next to each other during their first aid course, and moments later, Cremia felt how Anju had thrown her arms around her, using her own weight to keep them both upright.

“It will be okay,” Anju whispered to her while stroking her hair. Cremia could not tell if she was talking to her or herself, “just hold on for a minute, then I am going to call an ambulance.”

But Cremia was not sure she would be able to do that. Already, the black dots that had only got worse during the past weeks were almost taking up her entire field of vision. It felt pathetic, but as the realisation that this might very well be it, that she might end up dying in here in the dusty classroom where students had been sitting, bored out of their minds, only a few hours earlier, hit, all she could do was to cling to Anju, burying her face in her hair. She was no doubt smearing blood all out over her as she pressed her face towards her neck, her hand reaching up to hold onto her shoulder like her life depended on it, but Anju did not push her away, and so, Cremia continued to cry silently while Anju dug around for something in her pocket.

Her phone. It was her phone. Anju was supposed to find her phone. An ambulance would come soon and take her to the hospital where they would… where they would.

In an instant, Cremia was wide awake. She would go to the hospital where they would try to convince her to save her own life and get rid of the infection. She could not let Anju do that, not when she already knew that the risk of her not being strong enough to insist on suffering to the end was so high. She had to act now as Anju already brought her hand back out of her pocket, Cremia just barely able to spot the phone as she turned her head to the side.

She twisted, pushing herself to move even though her body felt like every last muscle had been replaced with bricks, just as heavy and immobile as they would have been as she opened her mouth to let out the plea. “Stop,” she yelled, but without the energy, it came out more like a whisper.

Still, the action had the intended effect, for as Cremia felt gravity claimed her, pulling her down towards the ground, the linoleum floor flying up to greet her face, she heard how Anju gasped and moved to catch her, the phone instantly forgot about as Anju barely managed to save her from hitting the floor, instead turning her around and slowly, always so slowly, lowering her down until she lay on the floor and felt how the world spun around her.

She must have fallen asleep for a second, for the next thing Cremia saw was Anju’s face, mere centimetres away from her own, the terror making her eyes look so much bigger than usual as she reached out to shake her.

“Cremia!” Anju yelled, but even as Cremia could hear her name and recognised the fact that Anju was calling out for her, was waiting for her to say something, to show that she was still alive, she found herself unable to do anything.

She simply lay there on the floor, too tired to talk, too tired to listen to what Anju was yelling as tears began to stream down her face, too tired to even try to force air into her lungs. From the way she could see Anju’s mouth move, Cremia knew that she was still yelling her name, the screams now interrupted by sobs that made her entire body shake. As she lay there, Cremia wanted for nothing more than to be able to reach out, to stroke the hair that fell in front of Anju’s face out of her eyes and tuck it back behind her ears, but her body was so impossibly heavy that she would never have been able to muster up the energy necessary to move her arm up that much. It was over. She was tired, and although the very core of her soul was screaming at her to fight, the classroom was cold, so very cold, making it feel more like a frozen tundra than a school. Within moments, she found herself closing her eyes—just for a moment, Anju was still crying and she needed to comfort her, but it would have to wait for just a moment—and fell into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the moment where Cremia was no longer able to hide that she had been coughing up flowers arrived. Given how much of a hopeless romantic I am, I think that you might already be able to guess what comes next :)
> 
> With a bit of luck, I may be able to get the next chapter up before Sunday. If not, then it will be up Sunday (barring unforeseen circumstances, of course)


	6. Chapter 6

Cremia floated on a cloud. All around her, everything was soft and warm, and though a faint sense of something damp kept her from fully enjoying it, it was far more pleasant than anything she had experienced for weeks. Maybe that was why she found herself shifting around, trying to find a way for her to block out the sounds, as voices broke through the silence around her, disturbing her little cocoon of total bliss.

“It has reached the very last phases, it is a miracle that her body was even able to fight it for so long… why did you not come to us before—” something warm flared up inside of her, and she did not realise that it was anger, anger directed at the person who had already assumed so much about her—for, somehow, a part of her knew that this was about her and the reason why she was floating through the cloud—until a second voice joined.

“She hid it. I don’t know why, but she did not want any of us to find out about this.” where the first had been unfamiliar to her, cold and distanced, Cremia knew this one, could almost feel the emotions that seeped into the voice like they were her own.

But of course the first voice cut through the small smile that had formed on her lips at the sound of the soft words, sharp as a knife. “Miss, with all due respect, this is a potentially fatal disease and with the symptoms being what they are, it is quite difficult to hide it. Surely, you must have noticed something, a time where she began to act differently, like she was trying to hide something.” a pause, the other voice this time talking, but although Cremia tried her best to turn her head in the direction of the sound, she could not hear what they were saying, and as the harshness came back, she groaned slightly to herself, annoyed at tone with which the voice continued. ”We just need to know when she first began to exhibit symptoms of it. Not the exact date, though it would of course be better the more precise you can be, but just a general idea of how long it has already been allowed to drain her body.”

She tried to make out the words of the response, but then something heavy pressed down from above, constricting her breathing, and before Cremia realised what was happening, the voices had been replaced with loud beeps and the sound of someone yelling, shoes clattering loudly against a solid surface. A sharp pain in her arm, and then, bliss, perfect bliss, as she fell further into the sky.

+++

Pain. That was the first thing Cremia noticed upon waking up. The pain in her chest and throat, she could explain; she had, after all, spent weeks coughing up roses, but why the rest of her body felt like someone had placed a thousand sharp needles in every spot they had been able to find Cremia could not figure out why. And then the exhaustion hit her, coming from out of nowhere before it was suddenly sitting on her chest, placing an invisible weight on top of her already struggling lungs. For a second, Cremia panicked, so sure that this was it, that this was what it felt like to die. Reaching up, she tried to shove the thing off her chest, barely thinking about what she was doing, only that she needed to breathe and that she needed to do that _now_.

And then air flowed into her lungs, but not because she had won the fight against the thing sitting on her chest. Rather, it felt like someone from outside her body was pushing it into her lungs, forcing what little remained of them to work on sending the oxygen towards the rest of her body.

Cremia opened her eyes to find herself staring up at a blindingly white light.

She threw her head to the side, or at least she tried to, but the fact that she was barely able to move a muscle meant that she only just so managed to avoid the light the next time she opened her eyes, blinking the pain and white spots away.

There was a tube of some sort right in front of her face, thin and transparent, with some kind of liquid inside. As Cremia followed the tube with her eyes, and saw how it went from some kind of see-through plastic bag hanging from a metallic stand to a sharp needle-like thing that finally ended in her arm, the conclusion arrived, wrapped in a bow of pain and aching lungs. Goddesses, she was in the hospital.

At once, her brain woke up, and as she came to realise that she was in the exact last place she wanted to be, the last place she could be right then, Cremia acted, fuelled by panic, and tried to reach up towards the tube. What she was hoping to do exactly, she was not sure of; it did not look like she could just rip out the needle and even if she could, Cremia doubted that it would not immediately alert someone in the hospital to the fact that she was awake and trying to escape, but right then, all she knew was that she could not stay there for even a second longer. Hospitals meant doctors, and doctors meant well-meaning people who knew a lot about things and had studied diseases for years, putting them in a position where they would no doubt look at Cremia and pity her for the flowers she did not want to remove. If there was one thing Cremia knew both from personal experience as well as that of strangers who had decided to share their story of their fight against the flowers in their lungs on the internet, it was that pity lead to people trying to convince you that it was for the better—always for the better, never easier or safer or anything like that, always _better_ —to give up love, happiness, sadness, and anger to be able to continue to live. She could not let them do that not now, not to her, not after she had spent so many nights crying to herself as she imagined what it would feel like when the flowers grew to cover her lungs completely before finally ending it all.

Cremia had thought that she had been tired, completely drained of energy, but that must not have been the case, for, feeling how the desperation gave her a newfound sense of urgency, she reached up towards the tube and pulled.

Immediately, her arm reacted by throbbing painfully, and even though she was not able to rip out the needle like she had hoped to, instead barely able to move it a millimetre, Cremia still saw what effect it had on her arm as a drop of blood slowly trickled down her skin, having appeared where the needle connected with the inside of her elbow. But she had not come this far for it all to end here, so she gave it another tuck, and slowly, with several drops of blood hitting both the floor underneath her as well as the crisp sheets around her, Cremia was able to remove the needle. Her arm was free and so was she.

Her head protested loudly as she dug her hands into the mattress under her and pushed, and Cremia supposed that if she had been just a little bit smarter, a little less afraid of losing everything, she might have taken it as a sign that she was not supposed to leave her bed. But she had already been aware of the fact that she suffered from a life-threatening illness and then chosen not to tell anyone and to make the few who knew promise her not to do anything about it, so evidently, Cremia was not the smartest person, nor was she capable of not fearing the moment a doctor would come in to tell her that her idea of her future was completely warped and that she needed help, so she pushed through the pain, forcing her head to stop sending signals to her body to lie down, to rest.

The room spun around her, all of the colours bleeding together to form one massive stroke of white, as she sat up and turned around so that her legs dangled off the edge of the bed. She was already more than halfway there, Cremia thought in an attempt to encourage herself. How exactly she had arrived at the conclusion that managing to sit up and swing her legs off the bed counted as hallway there when she still needed to figure out how to leave the hospital without anyone seeing her was beyond her, but it seemed to work. While holding her breath, not trusting herself not to let out a pained scream if she had done otherwise, Cremia pushed herself away from the softness and clean smell of the sheets and onto her feet.

The floor was incredibly cold, feeling more like tiny knives were cutting into the soles of her feet than anything else. One look down confirmed what she could already feel, that not only was she not wearing any shoes, she was also wearing some kind of white clothing, almost like a dress that ended just below her knees.

Her knees.

Cremia’s head was empty, feeling more like someone had showed a cloud in there, and yet, it had never felt as heavy as it did when her knees buckled under her weight and she feel forwards.

At least the goddesses were merciful enough to let her pass out before she hit the floor.

+++

The next time she woke up, Cremia was not able to move. She made that observation the second she struggled to move her head to the side, wanting to reach up to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes, only to find that she wasn’t able to. Something was holding her arms in place next to her, something that did not budge, not even as she fought her hardest to yank her arm away. After only a couple of moments of fighting with her restraints, Cremia could feel her heartrate speed up, and had it not been for how every single breath felt like it required as much energy as climbing a mountain, she was sure that she would also have noticed the panic in her breathing. But at it was, she could only try to pull her arm away from the restraints and feel how the panic slowly filled her once more at the thought of a doctor coming in to try to convince her to do what she rationally knew what was best for her.

A tiny sob escaped her as the thing that kept her arm in place dug into her skin, the pain doing its best to dissuade her from continuing forwards, rather than giving way to her attempts at getting her hand free. White-hot pain ran through her body, spreading from where one of the restraints had been tightened around her wrists, as she gave up and let her arm fall back down onto the bed.

“Cremia?”

At the sound of her name, Cremia gathered the strength to turn her head to the side.

There, sitting in a chair, with an expression on his face that, couple with the messy hair and the yawn he tried to supress, told her that he had only just woken up, possibly by the sound of her struggling to get free, was Kafei.

She attempted to whisper his name, but the sound only came out as a series of raspy sounds, so she changed course, allowing a new plan to take form instead, this time granting her success. “Where am I?”

If Kafei was confused at the question, he did not let it show as he reached out to brush his hand against hers. “At the hospital. You gave us all quite a scare when you passed out in the classroom.” the smile he sent her did not appear to be genuine, and as Cremia fought against the dizziness, the fog in her brain disappearing for a moment to let her see clearly, it was obvious why. He had cried. The redness of his eyes and the way they were slightly swollen, the light hitting Kafei’s face in such a way that Cremia saw how the paths of dried salt from the tears glittered slightly, gave that away in an instant, already before he had continued, squeezing her hand. “You—there were a couple of hours where they didn’t know whether—whether—” a sob interrupted him, but Cremia could guess what he had been about to say, had known what he would tell her from the moment she had first looked at him sitting in that terrible plastic chair next to her bed.

She had almost died. There had been a couple of hours where they did not know whether or not she would ever be able to wake up again. It should have felt more monumental to know that she had been on the brink of death, but it was like her brain could not make sense of what Kafei had begun to tell her. In a way, Cremia supposed she should be thankful for that. After all, after everything that had happened, she doubted she would be able to fully deal with the knowledge that it was a miracle that she had survived in a healthy way.

“Oh,” she said, hoping that her voice did not sound as empty as she felt inside, would not betray her and reveal how she could still see the abyss in front of her when she closed her eyes, “well, I suppose it’s a good thing that I didn’t then.”

The sound of a door creaking on its hinges made both of them look up, Cremia feeling how even the slight energy the movement required of her made the pain in her chest flare up again, shooting long tendrils through her body.

There, standing in the doorway, was Anju.

If Cremia had thought that Kafei looked exhausted, Anju looked like she was about to fall asleep while standing up. Her hair and clothes were a mess, all wrinkled fabric and greasy strands of hair that had tangled together, but even that was barely anything when compared to the look on her face. As Cremia focused, forcing the white dots in front of her eyes to disappear, she saw how Anju’s eyes widened upon seeing her, stopping for a second, frozen in place like she almost could not believe her eyes, before she ran over to her.

“You’re awake!” Anju exclaimed, her voice cracking as it rose to a point where Cremia had her doubts about whether even dogs would be able to hear her. As she sat down, pushing Kafei out of the chair standing next to Cremia’s bed, Anju swept the hair out of her eyes, face shining with something that was not quite fury nor worry. “Goddesses, why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped you, or, well, we would have tried our best—maybe it would not have changed anything, but why did your not—”

Cremia wanted to hold up her hand and inform her that she had just woken up, that the room was still spinning, but the restraints around her wrist—something she was slowly beginning to realise probably had something to do with the fact that her first action upon waking up the last time had been to rip a needle out of her arm—kept her from being able to do anything but speak up, interrupting Anju’s rambling. “Wait, wait, wait. Help me with what?”

Anju sent her a look that made it clear to her that her plan was not working, the combination of the hurt in her eyes and the way her lips curled downwards making Cremia feel like her stomach had been replaced with a heavy stone as Anju answered, her voice sounding too soft for the lie Cremia had just attempted to tell her. “I know about the flowers. Kafei told me about it the moment I called him to let him know that you had been taken to the hospital.”

“You told her?!” Cremia glared at Kafei with as much anger behind her eyes as she could find among the never-ending empty space inside of her. “Why?”

“Because you were about to die!” now Kafei’s voice was turning sharp as well as he rose from where he had been crouching next to Anju’s chair. “Because Anju called me, crying as she told me that you had collapsed in front of her after coughing up blood and that you had just been taken to the hospital and that she did not know what was wrong or whether or not you would survive. What did you expect me to do?”

That was enough to render her speechless. Truth to be told, she did not have anything to say in response to that. The closest thing to an answer that she could tell him was that she had hoped that she would be able to tell Anju herself, making sure that she could control the situation they would be in so that she could casually inform her that she had been coughing up flowers for weeks and then leave, sparing herself from having to look at Anju and see the moment where she realised just why Cremia had tried to avoid her for a week. She might doubt that Anju would be harsh about it, but still, even the fact that there was the tiniest risk that Anju would wait for a moment before nodding and telling her that maybe it was for the best if Cremia would leave her and Kafei alone for a couple of weeks now, just for long enough time to let them figure out everything, meant that Cremia would have made sure that she would be able to leave the general area at a moment’s notice. Having to look at Anju and try to form some kind of explanation as to why she had decided not to tell her while physically not being able to leave was the very last situation she had wanted to find herself in, that much was clear to her.

So she shrugged, moving her shoulders as much as the exhaustion and restraints allowed her to. “I don’t—I don’t know. I guess I had just hoped that I would get a chance to tell her,” her gaze flickered over towards Anju, and Cremia wished that she had been stronger than that, for she found Anju looking back at her, a look on her face she did not know how to interpret, somewhere between sadness and anger, “to tell _you_ , Anju, on my own.”

“But you didn’t.” Anju’s voice was small as she stated the obvious, and Cremia could have sworn that she felt her heart break as Anju’s voice broke. “You didn’t tell me. Why not?”

“Because—”

She was saved from having to answer the question by the doctor coming into the room. Despite having spent quite a lot of her time in the hospital dreading this exact moment, as the doctor looked up, frowning slightly as she caught sight of Anju and Kafei, Cremia had never been so thankful to see someone enter a room.

But the doctor did not merely interrupt her. Walking over to stand at the end of her bed, she gestured first towards Anju and Kafei and then towards the door. “I will have to ask you to leave now. There are quite a lot of things I need to discuss with the patient.”

A quick glance in the direction of where Anju and Kafei were still waiting by her bed told Cremia that they did not quite agree with that. With how Kafei was clenching his fist, his mouth settling into a thin line and how Anju reached out to place her hand on top of the metal bar that marked the edge of Cremia’s bed, even Cremia’s tired brain was able to see that they were trying to figure out whether they should insist on staying or if that would only make everything worse.

Kafei was the first to give in, sighing as he relaxed his arm and nodded. “Very well,” he said. Shooting a warning glare towards Anju, the expression on his face hidden from the doctor, he soon made her let go as well before turning back around to face him again. “We will leave now.” and then, almost but not quite reaching out to place his hand on Cremia’s like he wanted to emphasise his words, he sent her a tiny smile. “We will be back as soon as we can, just try to hang on for a little bit longer, will you?”

A ridiculous question, really. Of course Cremia was going to try her best not to let the flowers in her lungs achieve exactly what they wanted: her giving up and stop her attempts at resisting the pull of the roses. After all, she still had yet to figure out what to tell Anju. With how her collapsing had been enough for Kafei to admit that she was sick, Cremia did not doubt that he would not hesitate to tell exactly who she was coughing up flowers for if her condition worsened, and even if she could somehow manage to convince him not to tell her, Cremia would prefer for Anju not to have to wonder the reasons for why Cremia had told Kafei but not her, not if she was no longer around to explain it to her. And then there was the most pressing issue, rising up to greet her as she was finally able to let go of the rest, of just what would happen to Romani if she was no longer there.

Romani.

Cremia’s eyes widened as she realised that she had yet to see her sister. Goddesses, what day was it? She had hugged her and told her to enjoy her day that Monday morning, but how much time had passed since then? How much time had she spent lying in the hospital bed? Was it a new day—had Romani been forced to go to school without Cremia being there to smile at her and hold up her rucksack to help her find the place for her arms?

“Romani,” Cremia mumbled, following the doctor’s path through the room, “my sister, where is she? Has she been here, does she know where I am?”

It was apparent that the slightly whining tone in her voice did not go by unnoticed as both Anju and Kafei stopped to turn around and look at her while the doctor help up her hands in what Cremia assumed was supposed to be a placating gesture but only served to make her even more panicked, her mind already conjuring up scenarios that might have caused them to react this way at the mention of her sister.

“Yes,” the doctor began, “your sister knows that you are here. Your friends,” she nodded towards Anju and Kafei, “made sure to call her the moment they knew that you would not be able to leave you bed just yet. She visited you while you were unconscious a couple of times. Right now, she is waiting just outside the door.”

“Can I see her?”

She could how the doctor hesitated, split between saying yes and adhering to the same rules that had made her tell Anju and Kafei to leave. That was the moment, those few seconds of her clearly trying to figure out a way to allow it, where Cremia knew that the woman was kind-hearted, that she could trust her.

Finally, after what felt like it had been years, the doctor shook her head, an apologetic tone to her voice. “I am sorry, but there are a couple of things I will have to talk with you about first. But she will be welcome to come in the moment we are finished.”

Perhaps someone had mentioned to her that the best way to make Cremia cooperate was to promise her that it would lead to her being able to assure Romani that everything was fine quicker. If that was the case, Cremia supposed that she was doing nothing but confirming the idea that had led that plan as she found herself nodding along to the doctor’s words, before turning her attention towards Anju and Kafei who were still standing in front of the door, Kafei’s hand hovering just above the door handle, trying to look as confident as she possibly could while sending them a weak smile. “It will be fine. Just leave, and then you can come back in a moment.”

It seemed that it was all it would take to make them do as the doctor had told them to, for Kafei sent her a short nod before he grabbed Anju’s hand and pulled her along after him out of the room.

As the door closed with a soft thud, the doctor pulled the chair that had belonged to Anju just a few minutes earlier closer to the bed and sat down. “So,” she began, pausing to look over at Cremia with what almost appeared to be a pitying expression but had just enough distance placed between itself and pure pity to make Cremia pay attention as she continued, “I am sure you already know this by now, but you are here because the tests revealed that you are suffering from the Hanahaki Disease. From the look of it, the illness has already entered the last phases, so I assume that you have already felt the symptoms.” glancing down at the papers in her hands, she began to read. “Respiratory problems, coughing up blood, and of course the characteristic flowers blooming in your chest and coming up through your throat.” there was a short moment of silence, only a faint sound of something beeping in the background interrupting it, as the doctor looked up at Cremia.

“Yes,” Cremia whispered. There was no point in trying to lie to her. From what she could hear, they already knew just what was wrong with her. This was nothing more than an attempt to figure out how long the illness had been serious enough for Cremia to be unable to ignore it, “I—it has been that way for a couple of weeks now, you know, coughing up flowers and all of that. Although, I haven’t really begun to struggle to breathe until the last couple of weeks.”

“Weeks?” she had tried her best to make it sound like it was barely something she had noticed, but from the way the doctor was staring at her, her voice becoming a bit higher as she echoed her words, she knew that she had not succeeded. “Exactly how many weeks?”

Cremia counted backwards, trying to remember exactly how many times she had gone home on a Friday, trying her best to figure out how she would be able to make it through the next week with how the issue of the flowers and the blood constantly interrupting any conversation between her and her colleagues, students, and friends only became worse the longer she tried to ignore it. “Six weeks, I think,” she said once she had added it all.

“Six weeks?” even if it had not been for the way the doctor’s eyes widened, the high-pitched, disbelieving sound of her voice would still have been enough to let Cremia know that she could barely believe what she was hearing.

“Yes, well, it depends on how long I have been in here. What day is it?”

“It is Tuesday,” the doctor replied, “you were brought in yesterday.”

“Well, in that case, this,” Cremia gestured towards her face, the tube running into her arm, everything, “has been an issue for six weeks and one day. Or well, it is six weeks and one day since I coughed up the first flower—I had been feeling kind of sick for a couple of months before that, but it was more like a bad cold than anything serious.”

For the longest time, the doctor only stared at her, the papers and pencil left untouched. “Six weeks.” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The sound of the pencil slipping out of her grip and hitting the floor made her twitch and look down towards the source. Reaching down to pick up the pencil once more, she placed the top of it against the paper, but she had only written a couple of words before she looked back up, staring intensely at Cremia as she broke the silence once more. “As a doctor, I can tell you that I have never heard about a case like that. Usually, the last phases of the Hanahaki Disease will only last a couple of weeks, maybe a month, if you are lucky. For you to have been coughing up flowers for more than a month…” she shook her head, “it does not make sense; your body should not have been able to survive the strain the disease would bring for that much time.”

“Well,” Cremia said, hoping to use the doctor’s momentary shock to her advantage, “I did also have to take care of my sister. Maybe that helped, since I could not exactly give up and leave her behind. Speaking of my sister, can I see her now?”

“Uh,” the doctor turned over the pages, “yes, I suppose you can. Wait a moment—I will send her in.”

Cremia was not sure how much the doctor’s decision to allow her to see her sister had been caused by her actually having got the answers she had been looking for or if she was still too shocked to see that Cremia was alive to focus on anything else. Maybe she had even decided that with the way her tests had no doubt looked, it might be the last chance one of her patients would get to see her sister.

However, Cremia was not given too much time to ponder the question of just what made the doctor rise from the chair to instead upon up the door, her thoughts soon being interrupted by Romani running into the room, not even slowing down as the doctor said something about Cremia needing peace and silence. Not that it mattered. After all, she was could not have been more wrong about that. As Romani jumped up to sit in the chair next to Cremia, sitting with her legs folded underneath her to allow her to look over the edge of the bed, Romani placing her hands on the metal bar as she leant in over her, Cremia knew that she needed to talk with her sister more than anything.

“They told Romani that you were sick!” the mattress tilted slightly to the side as Romani placed her weight on the side of it, pushing down in her attempts to pull herself up onto the bed. “Anju came over to pick her up from school—she told her that you had gone to the hospital because you weren’t feeling good.”

Had it not been for how she knew she would not be able to do it without Romani noticing it right away, Cremia would have let out a relieved sigh. So Anju had known not to mention anything about how she had opened her mouth to let blood fall out and fallen to the floor to Romani. Thank the goddesses. Even as she lay there with both the consequences of her earlier escape attempt and the pain in her chest keeping her from being able to move more than her head, Cremia knew that it was the most important thing. As long as she would not give Romani a reason to cry and worry about her, everything would work out in the end.

Taking the time to consider her words, Cremia managed a small smile. “Yeah, I thought that it was just a minor thing so I did not think that it was serious enough for me to go see a doctor. But as you can probably see, I was wrong about that.”

“Is it—” Romani shot a look at the room, making sure that they were really the only ones in there, before leaning in to whisper to her, “is it about the thing… the thing were you had to go to the toilet all the time?”

It was not use to attempt to lie to her. Not only would it only delay the inevitable, the moment where she would have to explain to her sister that she had made the decision to refuse treatment, but while it might make Romani feel more at ease in the moment, able to relax for what little time she still had left before the flowers would achieve their goal, Cremia knew that it would be better for her not to have to wonder why her sister had lied to her. She nodded, doing everything she could not to cry as she looked at Romani. “Yes. It is.”

“But you will get better, won’t you?” Romani reached out to take her hand and squeezed it tightly, showing a surprising amount of strength. “You have to!”

“I will try.” it was the best thing she could tell her without outright lying to her.

And maybe there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice, something that let Romani know that Cremia was not able to promise her anything, for the next second, Cremia’s ability to breathe was further impaired by her sister throwing her full weight onto her, crying into her shirt.

Her heart felt heavy as Cremia tried to whisper soothing words to her, trying her best to make her sister stop worrying about her. But it was no use. Romani continued to cry and in the end, Cremia let her, wishing that she could have reached up to embrace her.

Romani must have fallen asleep at some point, for the crying did stop eventually, but by then, Cremia was too exhausted to even think about calling for someone to help her move her little sister’s sleeping form away from her. So she let her stay right where she was, unable to keep herself from smiling a little despite it all as she looked at her. There was something comforting about being able to look at Romani and know that she was okay, that she would make it no matter what happened to her now.

Apparently, despite the day she had already lost to sleeping in the hospital bed, Cremia was as tired as her sister, for it did not take long for her eyelids to become heavy. After that, it was only a couple of seconds before she was unable to fight the urge to close her eyes. So that was what she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the secret has been revealed!
> 
> I have to admit that the more I work on this, the more I want to write about Anju and Cremia. Given how this story is almost done, that is not exactly ideal - I guess I will just have to think of other stories to write about these two once this one is finished :)


	7. Chapter 7

Over the course of the following day, Cremia became aware of just how quickly the news about her being in the hospital as well as what had caused her to be there spread, and as she returned with Romani that afternoon, Anju placed what looked to be a lunch basket filled to the brim with cards down onto her bedside table.

As she followed Cremia’s line of sight, Anju sent her a tiny smile. “We thought about sending flowers, but with the reason for why you were here in the first place, it did not take long for us to realise that it would perhaps be a bit inappropriate.”

To that, Cremia could only laugh, though the sound was soon interrupted by another coughing fit. The doctor—Mipha Ruta as she had introduced herself as later that day, all horror at the thought of having forgot about her manners—might have given her something that made it just a little bit easier to cough up the flowers, something about the medicine she now had to take every other hour being able to somewhat combat the flowers, keeping them from being able to form as quickly as they had done before, but even with all of that, Cremia could still tell that it was getting worse with every passing second.

“Agreed,” she said, once she had regained the ability to speak. Reaching out, hoping that it would calm her sister and Anju to see that she was able to move her arms now, the restraints having been removed a little over an hour after waking up, Cremia picked up one of the cards from the top of the stack. The couple of sentences, scribbled onto the colourful paper in a messy scrawl, the message completed by a tiny smiley, told her that it was one of the younger students, and though her vision was still not quite clear enough to make out exactly what the card said, Cremia could guess the general gist of it.

She could feel Anju’s gaze on her as she pretended to read through the card, humming as she placed it back down into the basket.

That was when Anju broke the silence once more. “Romani, would you give me a moment to speak with your sister?” she looked down at Romani as she spoke, and although her expression, the smile and the forced cheerfulness, was enough to fool Romani, Cremia could tell that it was all a façade. “I need a moment alone to speak with her.”

“Uh,” Romani glanced back at Cremia, her hand instinctively reaching out to hold onto the metal framing of the bed, “Romani hasn’t got a chance to talk with her yet. She… I need to talk with her.”

“And you will. But I just have something I need to ask her about and I am not sure how much longer it will be able to wait.”

That seemed to convince her, Romani slowly letting go of the metal bar, her expression telling them that it was the last thing she wanted to do, but she did still nod at Anju before running back outside, the door slamming behind her.

“What is it you want to talk to me about that my sister would not be able to listen to?” Cremia asked as Anju sank down into the chair. Even as she asked, she was sure that she already had a pretty good idea of what the answer would be, especially as Anju looked at her like she could not believe what she was hearing. Still, Cremia did not let that deter her from continuing. “I mean, I think that she does already know that I am sick.”

Anju did not laugh, nor did she do anything to let Cremia know that she had heard her. No, she simply sat there in her chair, sitting so still that she might as well have turned to stone. Finally, just as Cremia was beginning to wonder whether she had truly not heard her, she looked up at her. “I talked to the doctor before you woke up. You know… when I called the ambulance and they were still trying to figure out what was wrong. And she said—she said that you only have three options. Either you get the flowers surgically removed, or you figure out just who is the cause for you coughing up flowers, or—or you die.”

For some reason, it did not truly register in Cremia’s brain that the sound coming up from Anju’s throat was sobs. It was simply not possible. Cremia could not possibly have been the reason for why her best friend was now sitting next to her bed, crying at the thought that she might die. It was not at all what she had wanted, not a situation she would ever have wished for. But it would appear that she had failed. Despite all of the times Cremia had thought about telling her before deciding that it would not be right to tell Anju that it was her, that she was the person Cremia was coughing up flowers for, and put her in a situation where she would have no other option but to do her best to convince her that the love that had first let the Hanahaki Disease infect her was not unreciprocated, she had failed in the end, and now Anju was sitting here, crying.

“Hey,” Cremia said, not sure exactly what she could do, only knowing that she had to make sure that she would not be the reason for Anju’s tears, “I am going to be okay. Don’t worry.”

“How? How am I supposed not to worry about you?” Anju pointed towards her. “You are lying here, about to die from a curable disease that I know you will never accept treatment for. Why did you hide it in the first place? The doctors said that you must have done everything in your power to hide it from us with how much the illness had been allowed to worsen before you got here. Why?”

“I didn’t want for you to worry about me.” The moment that she said it, knowing full well what Anju looked like when she pulled the end of her sleeve over her hand to use it to wipe the tears away from her eyes, it felt incredibly dumb. Cremia would have loved to claim that the decision had only been caused by the pain and desperation that seemed to have fuelled her for those past weeks, but even now, she knew that she would have lied if she said that she would have been brave enough to act any differently if she got the chance. “I know it sounds dumb, but I had thought that it would hurt less if you didn’t know about it.”

“Yeah, it is dumb.” Anju agreed, voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

It would have hurt less if she had yelled at her. Cremia would have preferred for Anju to become angry and demand an explanation while rising from her chair, glaring down at her, would have taken that a thousand times before being faced with this, the realisation that she had made her best friend cry. Then, at least she would have been able to stubbornly cross her arms in front of her chest and shake her head. But now, as Anju looked over at her, the tears still streaming down her cheeks, Cremia knew that it was only a matter of time before she would blurt out the truth.

“But I just—I want to know why you didn’t tell me. It’s horrible, I know,” Anju continued, shaking her head, and, goddesses, how Cremia wanted to tell her that the last thing Anju had been to her was horrible as she tried her best to keep the tears from continuing to stream down her cheeks, “but ever since you got here, I just could not stop thinking about why you told Kafei about it and not me. I know that we are all friends, but I thought that we would tell each other everything.”

Cremia turned her head away from Anju. For some reason, it was easier to force out the words if she did not also have to look at the way her bottom lip trembled, finally making her able to push them out from amidst the maze of thorns and bloodstained petals. “I wanted to tell you. I really did. I thought about what I would say for so long. But… in the end, I just couldn’t do it.” Cremia could hear how Anju took a deep breath, getting ready to ask for the exact reasons, so she hurried to continue. “I can’t give you a better explanation than that, not because I don’t want to, but because I genuinely don’t have one. I was tired, in pain, and not thinking clearly.”

After that, Anju was silent for the longest time. It was not until Cremia was on the verge of giving in to the urge to look back over at her, just to make sure that she was still there, that she spoke again, and when she did, her voice was tiny, filled with tears, and yet strangely resigned. “Well, in that case, I guess that I can only try my best to help you find the person you are coughing all of these flowers up for. For I doubt that you are going to change your mind about getting the operation, right?” the lack of an answer from Cremia seemed to be enough answer for her, as she did not give her more than a second to consider the question. “So… what is the name? Please tell me that you at the very least know who the person is. I doubt that we have time to figure it out.”

“Yes, I… I do know who it is.” the conversation was moving towards dangerous territory. Cremia could feel it in her soul, sense how she halfway wanted to roll back over and look into Anju’s eyes while telling her that it was her, it had always been her, while the other half fought tooth and nail to make her stay quiet. She supposed that it was a victory for that first part that she had even found the strength to admit that she did indeed know the name of the person.

“And?” Anju’s voice rose, and Cremia could hear the hopeful tone that had come to fill the empty space left behind by the tears. Goddesses, she wanted to be able to say a name, any name, that would not lead to that hope immediately disappearing as Anju would realise that it was her, wanted to extend this moment for another heartbeat as Anju leant in, coming closer to her. “What is this persons’ name?”

Finally, the temptation of being able to look at her for just one moment before she would risk everything between them became too much.

Cremia shifted around.

It was a mistake. For all the thoughts that had filled her during those last weeks, Cremia had not been prepared for the sight of Anju sitting so close to her.

With how little distance there was between them, it should not have come as a surprise to her that she was barely able to cope with the way Anju’s eyes still shone, a twinkle being apparent even through the tears. If she lifted her head just a bit, Cremia realised, she could have kissed her. It would have been so easy, and with the way her chest hurt with each breath, she doubted that she would have had to worry about the consequences that would follow, how Anju’s eyes would go wide as she leant back and tried to form a sentence about how they were friends and that she wanted to see her happy with someone, but that that someone was not going to be her.

So of course Cremia did not do it, instead letting the desperation building up in her chest seep into her voice as she looked directly into Anju’s eyes, telling herself to remember everything about this moment, how Anju still looked at her the same way she had done for years, the friendship between them making her eyes reflect the same kind of hesitant smile that decorated her lips.

“It is you,” Cremia said, “It has always been you.”

At first, it did not seem that Anju fully understood what she had just said. But then her eyes widened, and she leant back, moving further away from Cremia, her mouth forming the word a couple of times before the sound was able to enter the universe as well. “Me?”

Deciding that it was too late to even make an attempt at making it seem like it had all just been a joke, Cremia nodded. “Yes, you.”

“Oh.” Anju went silent, and that was exactly what Cremia had been fearing for weeks now. The moment where Anju would learn about her feelings for her and fall silent, waiting for a moment before gathering her thoughts, try to think of something to say. “But then… shouldn’t you be feeling better already?”

The question was not any of the responses that Cremia had expected. She had thought that Anju would try to insist that she did also love her, try to let her down gently, or simply leave the room altogether, the news being too much for her. But this, this was not something Cremia had even thought to worry about.

Maybe it was for the better, for rather than trying to listen to Anju’s voice, searching for any sign of her lying to her when she would no doubt try her best to save her, Cremia let her curiosity lead her, making her glance over at Anju. “What do you mean?”

“That I am in love with you. That should make it better, should it not? But then why are you still lying here, barely able to breathe?” pausing for a second, Anju breathed in sharply, and Cremia was not sure what to make of the hurt that shone through as she continued. “Is it because it is really someone else? Did you—did you just say that it was me to… I don’t even know—to make me happy or something?”

Cremia could barely resist the urge to close her eyes and let out a scream. So this was it then. There had been a short moment where she had hoped that Anju would be honest, but it seemed that she had been right all along. Anju really was trying her best to keep her alive, not seeing that Cremia would rather let the illness cover what little remained of her lungs than to allow herself to listen to the lies they would tell her in an attempt at keeping her alive.

As she opened her eyes, she found herself looking straight into Anju’s, and there was a time where that would have been enough to render her speechless, making all arguments fall aside, but that moment was not now, not anymore, not as Cremia mentally readied herself for what she knew she had to do before answering. “No, it is you. And to answer your other question, _this_ ,” she nodded towards Anju, trying to make the gesture involve everything between them, “this is why I did not tell you about the disease.”

Anju drew her brows together. “I am not sure I understand.”

Goddesses, it seemed that Cremia would have to make it obvious, Anju refusing to acknowledge what they both knew to be true.

Maintaining eye contact, knowing full well that she had to make her realise it now since she was not sure she would be able to listen to Anju try to convince her that there was a chance for even a second more without falling apart completely, Cremia told her everything, making sure to keep her voice even and controlled as she spoke, although her heart was beating madly in her chest. “This is what I am talking about. I knew that if I told you about how I coughed up flowers, you would try to do everything you could possibly do to save me. And once you made me tell you whom I was coughing up flowers for, I knew that you would try your best to convince yourself that you were in love with me. I mean, I can’t blame you for that; if you had been the one lying here, I would have done the same in a heartbeat, although,” a tiny, humourless laugh escaped her, a wet cough following right behind, “I think that this is proof that I would not have to lie to say it. Still, as much as I appreciate the gesture, please don’t feel like you have to try to convince me. I have accepted this a long time ago”

“You think that I am lying?” Anju’s voice was little more than a whisper. “You think that I am only saying this because you are dying.”

“Yes?” Cremia had not meant for it to sound like a question, like it was something they could possibly discuss. She supposed it could partly have been caused by the fact that even now, even as she knew that she was moments away from the flowers finally taking root, she could still not let go of the tiny bit of hope, the chance that she would be saved. But the twinge of annoyance at how Anju could not seem to just accept that Cremia had been unlucky enough to be predisposed, unlucky enough for the infection to affect her, unlucky enough for the only cure available to her being the option of losing every single emotion was stronger than the hope, and it was what made her add. “Why else would you say something now? We have known each other for years, but this is the moment where you decide to say something, the moment you learn that I am about to die because of the Hanahaki Disease.” she scoffed. “It does make your reasons for saying all of this pretty obvious.”

She had expected for Anju to send her the same sad look that had seemed to be her standard expression for the last couple of days, maybe even for her to make another attempt at convincing her.

Anju’s voice turning cold and for her to stand up, the chair squeaking as it was pushed over the floor, was not what she would ever have imagined might happen.

“You didn’t say anything either!” Anju did not quite yell, but Cremia knew that it was only their surroundings that kept the volume from rising to the same level as when Anju had caught a thief about to steal Romani’s rucksack. “I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you are not the only one who has been trying to figure out how to tell you best friend that you might be in love with them, Cremia!”

It was all wrong. This was not how Cremia had imagined it would happen. When she had pictured this moment, it had all been quiet, Anju, Kafei, and Romani realising that it was pointless to try to argue with her and instead sitting down to keep her company until the end. Anju looking down at her, her voice betraying her and revealing how she was much closer to sadness than anger despite the edge to her words, having just asked Romani to leave the room, had never been something she had imagined would happen.

Perhaps it was for the better, for it was the shock of how Anju reacted that made Cremia momentarily snap out of what she had assumed was the stupor of acceptance, of knowing that she was coming closer to the end with every passing moment.

“Look, I am sorry,” she said, and she really was. Not just for not allowing Anju to convince her and let go of all the difficult decisions to instead fall back into blissful ignorance, but for everything. How she had spent months waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell her, never realising that it would never come until it was too late. How she had lied to her sister and friends for weeks, hoping that it would make it hurt less in the end. How she was now lying in a hospital bed, all but outright telling Anju that she did not want to accept her offer of help, of rescue. Cremia was sorry for all of it, and yet, she did not stop, not even as Anju had to wipe the tears away from her eyes, this time using her other, still somewhat dry, sleeve, “but I just… I can’t. You must be able to understand that. I can’t just let you tell me that you have been in love with me as well with a clear conscience, not when we both now that I will die if I don’t believe you. It would not be right, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to do that to you.”

“I understand.” Cremia hated the way the resigned tone almost seemed to pull Anju towards the floor, her best friend slumping over in her chair, placing her head in her hands as she spoke, the words being a jumble of sniffles and silent sobs. “I just wish that I had told you earlier. Maybe… all of this could have been averted if I had told you back when I first became aware of my feelings for you.”

And that was the thing. There were so many what if’s, so many instances where Cremia, looking back on it, could have kicked herself for how she had failed to act, simply sitting still and hoping that fate would bring her the answers she was looking for. If she had told Anju back when she had made her soup, bringing it to her flat when they had still assumed that the coughing fits were a symptom of her having a cold, perhaps they would now be sitting on the old couch in Anju’s apartment, Kafei not being able to hide a smile as he told them that they made it difficult for him to watch the film with how they constantly had to whisper I love you’s to one another. Maybe if she had told her back when Anju had helped her find a change of clothes, they would now be sitting at a restaurant, trying to decide what to order before ultimately deciding that it did not matter that much since they would simply share with the other. There were so many things that could have been different, so many times where Cremia making a slightly different choice would have changed the situation they now found themselves in, but fact was that she had been afraid. Afraid of telling Anju and seeing the moment where Anju would have to tell her that she did not feel the same way about her, afraid of what was to come. But mostly, she had been afraid of change, Cremia could see that now. So of course the universe had decided to burden her with the Hanahaki Disease. It was almost like it had happened to her exactly because she had been so intent on not having to change, some kind of cosmic way of saying ‘so you don’t like change? Well, see if this will not end up changing everything!’, and had it not been for the fact this was a matter of life and death, she knew that she would have laughed at the thought, the sheer absurdity of it all overwhelming her, making everything else seem almost insignificant in comparison.

The silence between them was deafening, and it only grew with each second that passed, Cremia feeling how it brought her closer and closer to what she already knew would be inevitable. But that did not mean that it did not hurt all the same to lie there and know that this had been her fault, that she could have pretended to believe Anju and give her best friend that last gift of allowing her to spend the last hours Cremia had left free from any worries as she believed that she had managed to convince her.

“Cremia.” Anju broke the silence, and although Cremia had somewhat known that this would happen, that Anju would not be able to not at least make an attempt at making her feel better, she still found herself snapping out of her thoughts in an instant, so much of her attention being directed towards Anju that even the pain in her chest had to recede into the background. Once she saw that Cremia was indeed looking at her and seeing her, not merely trying to make her give her peace, Anju continued, moving slightly to dig something out of her pocket. The fabric of her dress rustled slightly as Anju searched for something, and then her attention was back on her again as she placed a card on her bed, right next to her left hand. “This is something I made for you,” Anju said, “I made it about a week ago.”

The unspoken sentence was left unsaid, but Cremia still knew exactly what Anju meant. She had made it long before Cremia had ended up in the hospital, long before she was made aware of the reasons for why Cremia had been acting differently lately.

With a shrug, Anju nodded towards the card. “I know it is not that much, and that it might still not be enough to convince you, but I still want to ask you to at least just… consider it. Forget about all of the hours I am sure you have already spent pondering the question of whether or not I would be sincere when I would tell you that I am in love with you, and try to let yourself believe me when I say that I would not lie about it, not about something like this and especially not when I know how much it means to you.”

She should have shaken her head and insisted that, no, she knew that Anju meant well, but that it was ultimately exactly that, Anju being unable not to try her hardest to help those around her, that made it so that, no matter what she said, Cremia would never be able to trust that she was telling the truth. But there was something about the way Anju looked down on her, her eyes showing nothing but complete honesty as she waited for her answer, that made Cremia hesitate to categorically refuse to consider it.

Maybe it was because she wanted so badly for what Anju was saying to be true. Maybe it was because that, even through the pain, Cremia could not deny that if the card Anju had just laid next to her hand had indeed been written before Anju had got the chance to blame herself for the fact that Cremia was now lying in a hospital bed with no other option than to either wait for death or give up all of her feelings, then there was a chance that it would be able to provide her with an answer and let her know if there was even the slightest chance of Anju’s insistence being caused by more than just her not wanting to see her die.

But in the end, Cremia suspected that the real reason for why she picked up the card, her movements slow and unprecise as she tried her best not to let it show just how much energy it required, was that a tiny piece of her was already convinced. She did not know exactly what had made the difference, but as she looked up at Anju, Cremia thought that she could see the same kind of fondness that hid something more looking back at her that she knew she could find in the smiles and laughs she had shared with Anju over the years, that look of pure adoration. So she held the card up in front of her face and opened it.

The first thing she realised was that it was not a card like the ones in the basket. There were no smileys, nothing about how Anju hoped that she would get better. Holding her breath, not quite allowing herself to hope that it really was the definite proof that the card had been made before Anju would have got the chance to learn about the Hanahaki Disease, Cremia forced her eyes to focus on the blurry image of the card in front of her.

And at once, it became clear that Anju had told her the truth all along.

It was picture after picture of them. Some of them looked like they had been taken several years ago, Anju sitting next to Cremia on a bench, laughing at her, the photographer having captured the two of them the moment a breeze had caught Anju’s hair, making it move in front of her face and the huge smiles on their faces coupled with the background revealing the college of education telling Cremia that the photograph had been taken shortly after they had graduated. But there were others that looked like they could not have been from much more than a couple of months ago. Anju having turned towards Cremia during an evening at the local bar, the blurriness of the image showing Cremia how the photographer—Kafei, it had to be Kafei with how he was not present in the photo—had simply hurried to capture the moment, Anju walking next to her, the two of them walking so close to one another that their arms almost brushed against each other, Anju leaning towards her ever so slightly, the huge grin on her face revealing how Cremia had just decided to share a joke with her. It continued on like that, Cremia looking through each and every picture.

“It is not a poem, I know that,” Anju said, and Cremia looked up from the card only to see how Anju refused to meet her glance, instead keeping her gaze fixed on a spot right next to her face, “but I just kept trying to figure out what I would want it to say, and it was still absolutely horrible. So it did that instead. Turns out that there are a lot of pictures that would be able to convey the same message as any words I would ever have been able to use to describe my feelings for you, some of them doing it so much better than my poor attempts at composing a poem.” finally, Anju looked at her, her face open, but her eyes still flickering from one side of Cremia’s face to the other. “So what do you think?”

Cremia looked back at the card, and something shifted inside of her. There was no big moment, no second she would later be able to pinpoint and say that it was the second where she let herself believe that what Anju was saying was true. Instead, it felt more like she now knew where the final piece of the puzzle was supposed to go, placing it there and hearing how it all clicked as she at last stopped fighting the urge to believe Anju, instead allowing herself to find comfort in the knowledge that she was her best friend and that she had no reasons to deliberately attempt to lie to her.

She could feel in her heart the moment she allowed herself to simply _be_ , to look up at Anju and let her smile down at her without trying to find reasons for why the smile could mean anything but what Anju was telling her it did. But even then, it was the pressure disappearing from her lungs that settled it for her, really made her see the truth around her; that Anju did love her, had taken the time to prepare the card based on some dumb bet she had made with Cremia.

“Will you please say something?” Anju’s lips curled upwards into a smile, and even though she asked, there was no uncertainty in her eyes as she looked down at her. “Anything at all. I need to know what you are thinking.”

“I can breathe again.”

Anju’ leant in, and somehow, even though that would have been enough to make Cremia feel like there was not enough air in the room around her moments before, like even the mere presence of Anju was enough to worsen her condition, it felt so right as Anju threw her arms around her, no doubt breaking every rule about how visitors were supposed to behave as she held her to tightly that Cremia supposed it was a good thing she no longer felt like she had an invisible weight sitting on her chest.

“Goddesses,” Anju whispered, her voice somewhat muffled by Cremia’s hair, “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t?”

“No. Just stay with me.”

Pulling away from her, just enough so that she could meet her gaze, Anju laughed without a sound ever leaving her lips. “I can do that.”

But somewhere amidst their celebration, they must have managed to make the needle in her arm move, disturbing it with their joy, for the next moment, the bliss was interrupted by a loud beep, the sound soon followed by a little team of doctors and nurses swarming the room, all worried expressions and stern glances directed at both Cremia and Anju.

“No, wait,” Cremia tried to explain as Mipha grabbed Anju’s arm and whispered something to her, making Anju nod before sending a smile back at her and leaving the room, “we figured it out—I am feeling better already!”

“I don’t doubt that, but you have to understand that we can’t have any visitor disrupt your treatment,” Mipha said, all calm professionalism as she moved over to make sure that the needle would be kept in place.

Cremia bit back a sigh and tried to remind herself of what it must have looked like to them, having just entered the room. After all, just a few minutes ago, Cremia had thought that she had truly come to terms with the effects of the disease, lying there with nothing to do but to wait, so she tried her best to return to that bliss even though all she wanted to do was to shove everyone who stood between her and Anju aside, jump out of her bed, and sprint after her.

With a deep breath, Cremia spoke up, making sure that her voice was loud enough to show how the sound of her fighting against the flowers to get even the tiniest sound out had disappeared. “No, I meant that I am not sick anymore.”

That made the commotion around her stop, Mipha looking over at her with an expression that told Cremia how she was fully prepared to inform her that she was sorry, but that they could still not let her leave.

She would have to make them see what she had just realised before then, and so, Cremia did not even give her the chance to begin. “I—I figured out the reason for why I was sick, and, well, I told her.”

In the end, she left the rest unsaid. For some reason, it would not have felt right to tell them about the card that was still lying next to her, barely hidden underneath her hand. That was between her and Anju, not for anyone else to see. But even then, it was enough for the sound of hushed conversations to fill the room once more, Mipha trying her best to make herself heard above the whispers about how they would need to run a few tests to make sure that she was right, sitting down in the chair—the chair where Anju had sat moments before—as she begun to question her about how her lungs felt, if she had the same respiratory problems, if she could sense even a slight remnant of the pain of a flower making its way up her throat.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Cremia was able to answer each and every question honestly.

In the end, Mipha looked up at her, the wide smile on her face telling her everything she might ever have wanted to know. “I will try my best not to promise you more than I can guarantee,” she said as she placed the papers down in her lap, “but,” she sent her a smile that made Cremia feel like she could have run for kilometres on end, fresh air filling her lungs, “I think that you will be able to leave sooner than we had expected and in a much better way than what we had feared would be the case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, this story is almost finished. All that is left is a short epilogue that I will hopefully have up in about a day.


	8. Chapter 8

The flowers were slightly damp as Cremia held them, trying her best to make sure that the piece of cloth that had been tied around the stems would not be able to touch her dress and stain the fabric.

Looking at the petals one last time, making sure that every last one of them were as perfect as when she had gone to pick up the bouquet at the florist’s shop, Cremia tried her best to calm herself. After all, it was not like the fact that she had spent the last couple of hours first frantically going through her entire wardrobe to figure out what exactly she would wear and then jumping out of her front door, barely having time to check her phone to answer the text from Romani about how Pamela’s father seemed to have made progress at work with a smiley of her own before she all but sprinted to her destination to make sure that she would be the first customer at the florist’s shop and avoid a possible queue would be the decisive factor in whether or not their evening—her and Anju’s evening, the _date_ , her mind added—would end up being as perfect as Cremia had hoped it would be while planning it. But while she knew that, it did not keep Cremia from pacing around outside the restaurant, anxiously fiddling with first the hem of her dress and then with the bouquet, looking over it time and time again to make sure that everything was perfect.

“Cremia!”

She heard the sound long before she saw Anju turn around the corner, a couple of metres away from her, and as she looked up, quickly reaching behind her to hide the bouquet from Anju, Cremia knew that she was already smiling so widely that it was a miracle that her cheeks had not given up under the strain.

Anju almost ran over to her, already laughing, reaching up to run a hand through her hair, as she leant into the embrace, throwing both hands around Cremia’s neck as she pressed a shy kiss to her lips. “And here I thought that I would be the one of us who would always be early for everything!” leaning back just enough to be able to look at her without having to tilt her head backwards, Anju looked up at her with that certain twinkle in her eyes that never failed to make Cremia feel like the air around her was that much clearer, the sun a little brighter, and the world a little better.

Having to open her mouth a couple of times before she found the words to answer, Cremia returned the smile with one of her own. “Yeah, well, I decided that that would be my thing. And do you know what I have also decided is going to be my thing?” when Anju pretended to think about it for a second before shaking her head, Cremia held out the flowers towards her. “This. I have earned the right to be the one to buy all flowers in this relationship.”

As Anju took the bouquet, Cremia could only hope that she had not made a misjudgement, that Anju would not look back up at her in horror at the joke. Not even the calming thought of how she had already slowly begun to give flowers, starting by picking a tiny bouquet when they went to the park, and then buying her a single tulip when they had gone to the festival in town along with Kafei and Romani, was enough for the butterflies in her stomach to settle down a bit.

So Cremia asked her. She simply opened her mouth and did what she had slowly formed the habit of doing since the day she had been able to leave the hospital: asking Anju.

“Do you like it?”

“Like it?” Cremia already knew what the answer would be as Anju looked up at her, holding the bouquet just a little bit closer to herself. “I love it. Just like I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cremia said, and although it still felt strange, unreal even, like she might wake up at any moment to find that these past months had all been nothing but a dream, the novelty of it all was slowly beginning to disappear with each time she allowed herself to say those words.

There was a time when Cremia would perhaps have been saddened by that thought, but now, it only brought her joy to be able to respond to the kiss by wrapping her arm around Anju’s waist and pulling her closer, Anju making sure to hold the flowers away from herself, saving them from being crushed between them.

They broke apart again, and when Cremia looked at Anju and saw the same kind of joy that flowed through her veins reflected back at her, she knew that even if she got the chance to change things, if she could go back in time and see how miserable she had been only half a year ago, she would still not have hesitated before telling herself that it would be worth it, to simply hold on and try to let go of the things that held her back, explaining to her how it would only being her joy in the end.

“We should probably go inside,” Anju breathed, “you know, before they think we are not going to show up.”

Cremia nodded, unable to take her eyes off her. “Yeah, we should.”

She followed along after Anju, and as she reached out to hold the door open for her girlfriend, the fragrance of the flowers hit her, sweet and wonderful as it filled the air around her.

For the first time in months, Cremia was able to say that it was fine. There were flowers right in front of her face, but not even the tiniest part of her was thinking about the way bloodstained roses had looked when she had let them disappear into the embrace of toilet paper. Instead, there were flowers, the same kind of beauty she had been able to decorate Anju’s hair with a little week ago, the same kind of flowers that Romani had slowly, looking like she was ready to withdraw her hand and hide the flowers any second, given to her on her last birthday, flowers like the one Kafei had helped her buy for Anju for their one month anniversary when even the thought of holding a bouquet much less having to go into the florist’s shop where she might come face to face with the dreaded sight of roses had still proven to be too much for her. There were flowers all around her, a symbol of joy much like the ones Aryll had doodled onto the corner of her test before looking up at her and, seemingly recalling the official explanation for why their teacher had been in the hospital a couple of days, started to erase them until Cremia had realised what she was doing and asked her what kind of flower she was drawing, Aryll smiling up at her when she told her that it was a flower she had invented especially for her.

They were just flowers, but as Cremia remembered the joy on Anju’s face when she had accepted the bouquet, they were beginning to be so much more than that again. Only, this time, they were a good thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, the story is now finished! However, I don't think that it will be the last fic I will write about these two...
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read this - it truly means a lot to me :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! Hopefully, I will have the next chapter up sometime within this week - I hope that the updates will not be more than a week apart, but there is always the risk of real life destroying that plan.
> 
> If you want to yell at me for putting some of my favourite characters through all this pain outside of the comments, I am theseventhsage on Tumblr :)


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